Hidden Paths
by El Reino
Summary: Things cant seem to go right for Daria after her family dies, but when she finds herself with a rich new family, things look up. If only Prince Jerrold would just leave her alone... Lemonlimesweetness handed it over to me.
1. Prologue

This is lemonlimesweetness' fanfic. I'm taking it over for her since she didn't want to continue it and I didn't want to see it go. I'll be uploading this a chapter a day so I can have time to prepare mine. Enjoy and Review! (I didn't edit any of this, because I wanted these chapters of hers, to remain totally and completely hers.)

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Summary: Daria was a former peasant girl until a tragic accident occurs

**Prologue**

A small and delicate ten-year-old merrily hummed herself a tune as she washed a heap of food-stained crockery. She had donned a simple, crème day gown: a cheap one with a rough texture, large stitches, and many stains.

She automatically scrubbed each dish, rinsed it off in a small tub, and then wiped it dry with a tattered rag. She did each without even thinking about it. Instead she envisioned her self about seven years hence. Would she still be working at the inn? Would she still be dressed as scantily? Would she even be alive? As she was about to place down another platter, a loud voice rang out from the other room, "Daria!"

Upon hearing the voice break through the previous silence, Daria suddenly jumped back, startled. Her elbow hit the sink behind her and the dish slipped from her grasp. It shot up straight into the air, and for Daria it seemed as though time stopped. She stumbled back to try to catch it but hit the tub, thus causing it to spill the sudsy water all over the hard wooden floor. Then it got worse. She slipped on the water; fell flat on her back, and just barely caught the large ceramic platter. By the time she got back up, Daria finally noticed the throbbing pain in her elbow. She slowly pushed back her sleeve to inspect the wound. There was a bluish-purple bruise that dotted the area where her elbow had hit the sink, and slowly inflating around it was a reddish swell. She winced as she gingerly caressed it with her fingertips. Wearily, she collapsed onto the floor, her shoulder-length waves sprawled out around her head.

"Daria! What are you doing just lying around there?"

A middle-aged man stood leaning on the doorframe. He had dwindling black hair and a bushy mustache. He was tall and lean with pallid skin. Clothed with merely a cotton tunic, brown breeches, and a ragged apron, it was easy to tell that money was scarce.

Daria stood up, her icy blue eyes twinkling. Suddenly, she erupted into laughter. In a few seconds, she was laughing so hard that she almost fell down again. It took a few more seconds for her to retain herself.

"If that's enough--," her father started, but that was all it took for Daria to start giggling once again. Each minute wore by with more peals of laughter, her father kept trying to get a word in between chuckles.

"Dinner" giggle "is in" giggle "five" giggle "minutes!" more giggling. Clutching her stomach, Daria nodded to show consent and then returned to the floor, still laughing. Her father walked back to the main room, muttering something about 'children'.

When Daria finally caught her breath, she walked over to a small hand mirror on the table at the side of the room. She raised it up and looked at it. To her, it showed a small porcelain girl, with her wavy black hair in a right old mess. The only thing Daria actually liked about herself was her eyes. They were big and almond-shaped. When she was happy, they twinkled with life, and when she was mad they were icy, and you felt as though she could see your every thought as they poured deep into you.

She gazed at her self for some time, and then she reached over to the table, where laid a single wide-tooth comb. She brought it down through her hair, trying to tame it. After that, she went back to the sink and washed her face with the cheap kitchen soap. It was the only thing her family could really afford when they had all their other expenses to think about. She dabbed her face softly with a dish rag, and walked out the door for dinner.

The inn was bustling. Guests were running up to their suites while travelers, folks here only for food, rushed out. Daria's father was outside, turning a sign on the dirty glass window outside, while a woman and two other children hustled to each table to clear them and clean them.

It was closing time for the inn.

Daria stepped swiftly behind a crevice so as not to be swept up in the closing rush. After the downstairs of the inn was cleared out, and after Daria's father finished locking up the front and back doors, the family pushed two tables together for supper.

Daria took an uncomfortable chair beside her Mother and younger sister and brother, _twins._ Her mother had short, ragged blonde hair that was drawn into a messy bun. Deep set were two shining brown eyes. She was slightly plump and short. The only thing she had in common with Daria was her skin color. Other than that they looked nothing alike. Her twin brother and sister were only 2 years old. They took on the look of their mother with blonde hair and brown eyes. In fact, Daria was the only one in her family with blue eyes. They little twins were Emilline and Daniel, but they like to be called Emma and Danny. Daria's mother's name was Gina, and her father was Michael.

Everyone in the family tucked in. Settled on each plate was a slice of coarse brown bread, a chunk of cheese that was studded with hazelnuts – they had some growing in the backyard and this year's lot was abundant – and some sort of vegetation; it was the exact same thing that they had yesterday, and the day before that, too. Next to each plate was a simple tumbler filled with water. Daria inwardly sighed. She had dealed with poverty since she was but a baby, but it still bothered her every time she glanced at her measly dinner. She took her small and dented fork and dejectedly poked her broccoli and carried it to her mouth (or as we commonly call it, the _pie-hole_). When she finished her vegetables, she moved on to the bread. As always, it was stale and flavorless. To try to give it more appeal, she ate some cheese with it. She almost brought the cheese to her mouth when she noticed the green spots that appeared in big dots around the surface. She squealed and threw the moldy cheese onto the floor.

"Daria! What was that for?" asked Gina.

"It's moldy!"

"We're sorry Daria, but it's all we have." It was her father this time. She sighed, out loud this time and carefully picked the spoiled morsel up. She then tossed it into the garbage bin.

Suddenly a thought came to Daria. _It's my birthday tomorrow! _She realized with a jolly acceptance. After a few minutes, she asked her parents. "Tomorrow's my birthday……" she said warily. Both her parents looked at her.

"Yes, it is" said Michael.

"So….. I thought that for my birthday present I could have a birthday cake, and maybe even a new gown."

"Oh, Daria," her mother looked at her remorsefully. "Daria, we know how much you deserve it, but you know that business has been slow lately and….."

"…….and you can't afford it," Daria finished impassively.

"Daria we're so sorry," Gina started saying.

"I know" Daria said. She put down her plate, not very gently though, and trudged upstairs to her room.

"Daria!" Michael shouted, but she ignored it. She swung open her bedroom door and threw herself onto the small bed. After a while, when she finished slamming her pillow against the wall, she crept down to the base of the stairs and hid in the shadows, still un-noticed by her parents. Emma and Danny had already headed/been sent upstairs after Daria did. Now her parents were alone downstairs. The other guests of the suite were already sleeping, not a care in their minds as they dreamed.

After Michael made sure no one was there, still not seeing Daria, he headed back to the table where Gina was seated. There was a slow creak as he pushed the table back to its former position, the place it was before the family had dinner. As he dusted the windowsills, Gina started speaking.

"Michael, it _is _her 11th birthday. Maybe we could break the budget for one day." Michael sighed, "Gina, that's the problem." He paused for a few seconds and then said, "I didn't want to say in front of the kids, but I checked our income and our expenses…………we're broke," he blurted out.

Behind the staircase Daria's eyes widened and she blanched as she heard the news. "What!" Gina exclaimed and she mimicked Daria's expression. "Yes it's true, I am going to Ayortha to ask a favor from an old friend and maybe he can help us……………." Daria would not hear anymore, she ran up the stairs not caring whether or not her parents heard her.

She went back to her bedroom, her mind muddled with thoughts.

_We are broke? That cannot be right!. And I can't believe I asked for a cake! And a new gown! What was I thinking? It's the same thing every year. And Father is going to Ayortha; that isn't fair! How long will he be gone? _

Footsteps were heard coming up the stairs, it was Michael. Daria could tell from the type of footsteps. Smack! Thunk. Smack!

She took her thin quilt and encased her body with it. She pretended that she was sleeping. "Daria?" he checked whether or not she was asleep. Daria did nothing, but to be cautious, she breathed deeply and moved her chest up and down in a steady rhythm.

Michael sat down on the edge of Daria's bed; there wasn't that much room left because Daria's bed was miniscule. He then laid his hand on her head, "Daria, I'm sorry," he said. Then with one last look at his slumbering daughter he headed to the door. Right before closing the door, he whispered, "Goodbye." And then he closed the door.

The next day, Daria woke up late, around seven. She was usually woken up by 5:30 so that she could do her chores: help make breakfast, dust around the inn, clean the suites, and other such things. There was only one occasion in which she was allowed to be woken up this late. She realized that it was her birthday! She rose cheerily and crept downstairs, not wanting to alert the others of her presence. Daria was surprised when she found, instead of the happy faces that she was used to, the faces here were dreary in comparison.

Daria saw an absence of the pleasure usually in store for each day. Instead, there were teary faces.

Gina was walking around, dusting the same places over and over again, she looked close to tears. Emma and Daniel were already crying, tears streaming down their little chubby faces. _What's going on? _Daria thought. And then it hit her.

"Dad."

Gina and the twins looked at Daria with surprise etched into their face when they heard the inaudible whisper.

"Happy Birthday, honey," Gina said, trying to look happier but still looking miserable.

The twins, however, brightened up considerably when they saw her.

"Halply Blirfday!" said Emma.

Danny just came and hugged her. Daria smiled. The twins were only two years old and they did not really see the importance of the matter.

"Where's Father?" Daria asked, even though she already knew the answer.

"Your father has to go to Ayortha for a little while, hun."

"Why!"

"Sweet, we need money. That's why"

"Oh."

Six week later, an unexpected visitor came to our inn. It was the Ayorthian prince, Oscaro. Though Daria would rather it had been her father, she was still astounded that such an important visitor would have arrived, and he was received with great pleasure. What wasn't received well was the grave news he carried.

"Good day," he said in a gravelly voice. His face was smiling, but upon further inspection, Daria realized that his eyes said differently. And her smile was immediately replaced with a frown; his majesty didn't notice. _Would he give bad reviews about the inn? Would he make customers stop coming? Would he get our license revoked!!_

The rest of the day, Gina and Daria cared for the princes every need, and tried to extol all of his wishes. When he asked for a stew for lunch, Gina spent the whole morn trying to make it perfect. When he asked for a mug of ostumo, an Ayorthian delicacy, for dinner, Daria spent an hour going on the streets to find an Ayorthian that could give her the recipe.

When the day came to a rest, and the inn cleared out, the prince was the only one left. He sat down and requested an audience from Daria and her mother. Danny and Emma were sent up to their beds to sleep.

As they sat down, Daria asked, "Sir, if you may, could you tell us of our father? Michael of Frell?"

"Ahhh, yes that is what I wanted to talk about." The look in his eyes returned. Was it reluctance? Daria didn't know.

"You see………" and he related the entire story back to them.

_It was time for the most respected tournament of the year. The treasured prize was the song diamond. It was worth at least 1000 gold yorthys, or in Kyrria, 10 trunks of gold KJs. Swordfighters from all over, from right there in Ayortha, from Kyrria, even the distant land of Pu, came to contest against each other. The battlefields were close to the castle itself. It has stands encircling it, holding rich nobles desperate for enjoyment. There were long, thin, metal poles on the corner of the battlefield, almost touching the stands. Draped between these poles were large squares of black metallic mesh, put there to protect the audience in case of any accidents. I was sitting right at front, and I watched as each man fought, with all their strength, fueled by greed: all but one. And he was Sir Michael of Frell. Each fight lasted about an hour. And each round, a day. So the time until the final round was a month durance. In the final round, there was the Duke of Jenn, a location that is in Kyrria itself, and your father and husband, Sir Michael of Frell. The fight that stood between them was grueling, but as each opponent grew wearier, and the swords turned heavier, the fight came to an end. Using his last morsel of energy, Sir Michael dispatched his adversary. In this way he won the tournament; he won the song diamond, too. He turned his back to the Duke of Frell, to take in the praise from the audience. Then, the Duke, overtaken by greed, drew his sword, and….and…..he….the sword was thrust, through Sir Michael._

Daria turned deathly pale, as did her mother.

"And?" She said, shakily.

The prince sighed.

"I am sorry to say that Sir Michael," he turned his head away, for he couldn't bear to look at the pair, "Sir Michael is gone."

Daria let out a sob and huddled over, her body shaking. Gina just blinked, unwilling to believe it.

"The Duke was sentenced to execution. I came here to tell you. And, I came here to give you what is rightfully yours: the song diamond."

Drawing a cloth colored sphere from his cloak, her passed it onto Daria; Gina was now crying so hard, she could do no more than nod.

Daria took it, tears still streaming down her cheeks. She unraveled the cloth, made of satin, and took it in.

The Song Diamond was beautiful. It was an unnatural golden color, and it reflected the small amount of light that came from the seven lamps that hung around the walls of the inn. All the same, it was taunting. Yes it was gorgeous, but it was no substitute for Daria's Father. This is why Daria refused it. It was a foolish mistake, but Daria hated it. And she hated herself.

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	2. Chapter 1

**World and characters belong to Gail Carson Levine. Chapter/writing belongs to Lemonlimesweetness.**

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**(Five years later)

Chapter One

Daria stood in the kitchen bent over the wooden washboard, once again washing more dishes. First came a platter. Wash. Rinse. Dry. Put it on the rack. Grab new cup. Wash. Rinse. Dry. It was a dreary task that soon fell into rhythm so she didn't even have to hesitate as she scrubbed away at a fork streaked with grease from someone's meal, leaving plenty of time for her to think.

It had been about five years since the death of Michael she, and his absence seemed routine. When they had gotten the news of his death, Daria was too confused to think properly. Oscaro had offered them limitless luxuries in the form of the Song Diamond, but Daria selfishly refused it.

The beautiful stone reminded her why her father was dead; it was all because of her. She was the one who made a big fuss about a cake and a new gown for her birthday, not content with what she already had. Daria did not have much, but she could think of many ways her situation could get worse. She could be an orphan on the streets starving to death. Her life was just fine; it was the materialistic greed which caused the whole thing that troubled her at night.

A resounding crash snapped Daria out of her brief reverie, curiously stepping outside to inspect the scene. On the floor of the inn was a pale blue ceramic bowl-- or at least it used to be a bowl. Now it was reduced to no more than a few porcelain shards scattered across the rough wooden floors. Close to the crash was Daria's mother, Gina and a drunken man who giggled every time Gina bent down to clean the mess with her stained rag, making it difficult to clear the mess.

Upon seeing Daria, Gina stood up and lifted her skirts. Shuffling closer to her, Gina whispered into Daria's ear.

"Hun, could you please escort this nice man up to his suite?"

Daria inwardly groaned. Drunken guests were a common thing in their small inn, but they were _always _unruly. The aroma surrounding them was pungent, and their manners un-settling. It was hard to balance them after they had taken a rather large dosage, and they were just down right rude.

There was one certain drunk that Daria had an experience she'd rather not remember.

_The inn was dark; it was close to nightfall and the closing of the inn. Off by a secluded corner was a table slightly hidden by a fern. Sitting at this table was a strong, muscular man, sipping a mug of ale. He had bloodshot eyes and a dazed expression. Every night, when the inn closed, the bottom floor was required to be deserted. While Daria was dusting of a ledge, the man caught her eye. Placidly putting down her duster, she walked over to the man._

"_Sir, it is closing time; you must leave."_

_The man looked up with a petulant expression. _

"_He he he, she think me a sir. He he he, ma name's Arnold he he he," he slurred._

"_Sir, you need to go."_

"_She kinda pretty."_

"_Sir, please, you need to go back to your home." And with that, Daria took his arm to show him out._

_Arnold got up with her, but then tightened his grip on the girl – 15 years at that time – and pulled her closer, trying to give her a kiss. But drunk as he was, he missed and instead smacked her nose. Daria's eyes widened and she took her hand and gave him a sound slap right on his cheek._

_Arnold's eyes darkened dangerously._

"_Arnold not happy," he growled, advancing on to Daria._

_Slowly, Daria backed away, but the inn did not go on forever and she knew that eventually, she would have no more room to escape. As she retreated, Arnold came drew closer, his arm now raised in an angry fist. Daria gulped, feeling the firm wall behind her and dreading what was coming next. She winced, feebly covering her head to prevent a blow to the head as she prepared herself for the hard hit._

"_hehehe now the pretty lady has no where to go," he said as he brought his fist towards her at a surprisingly quick pace. Thankfully, he was so intoxicated that he missed completely._

"_Help!" Daria was strong, but she was no match for this bulk of a man._

"_Daria?" Gina walked downstairs to see her daughter being assaulted by some man._

_Fortunately for them, staying at the inn was a knight from the royal military; he was in his suite, the best one when he heard the cry for help and rushed downstairs. The man was thrown out, and the next day he was arrested for assaulting a female._

Not wanting to have that night's events repeated, she took care to get the guest safely to his suite. Taking him gingerly by his bulky arm, Daria led the man slowly up the stairs. The stairs were old and creaky, so each step that Daria and the man took made them croak, and it sounded quite like a strangled frog. Each time the step groaned under the weight of the pair, the man would emit an unusual, high-pitched giggle.

_It's only a few more minutes until I get him to his suite _she thought grudgingly. A few minutes could take forever. Each step they took made Daria more and more repulsed by him. By the time they had gotten to his suite, she wanted to take him back to the staircase and just push him down. He was despicable!

Finally Daria got back to her own bed, in desperate need of a bath. How she longed for a good hour or more to have the bathtub all to herself, soak in the warm sudsy waters and scrub away all her trouble and stress. But of course, she could not, for they had a limited water supply and she had already used hers. In fact, she was allowed a shower only every other day. It was all her family could really afford when they had all the guests to look after. After all, the guests used a lot of water, and they were up to their necks taking care of that, so showers every day would just make it worse. Much, much worse. She leaned back on her bed, carefully slipping past Emma's bed, which took up one-third of the room. The other one-third was taken up by her own bed pushed against the wall next to the doorway with the remaining one-third occupied by a battered dresser filled with what little possession they had. She glanced over at the rise and fall of Emma's chest covered by the threadbare quilt, and smiled.

Emma's bed had been moved over to Daria's already cramped room, which made it unlivable, for there was hardly any room to spare between the two, but she didn't mind much then, there are one to having favored Emma of the two, and she made for an easy companion, always listening intently and a quiet sleeper. The latter was especially important. Emma and Danny had grown up since their father had died. They were both seven, and they had matured considerably. They were no longer as plump as they used to be; now they were scrawny. Danny no longer liked to be called 'Danny'. He preferred 'Daniel' instead. Emma, though, favored 'Emma' over 'Emilline'.

Daria had also grown from the time of Michael expiration: she was taller, about 5 feet and six inches, she had gotten quite slender, a perfect body shaped from years of hard work taking care of the inn. She was quite attractive, if you washed away all the dirt, perhaps combed her hair, and dressed her in a gown rather than the tattered rags she wore now.

Grudgingly, Daria got up to head back downstairs. The night was still young and she had many chores that she had not yet completed. She slowly turned the doorknob. Then she gently pushed to door, hoping that it would not make its usual creak, and would be silent to leave her sister sleeping peacefully. Daria never was a lucky person. When she opened the door, it made a deafening _squeeeaaaak,_ perhaps just to spite her. She looked back, praying that her sister had not woken up. If she had, it would take an eternity to get her asleep again. She tensed, pausing to listen for any murmurings. None. Still, Daria decided to be safe and tip-toed over to her sister's bed, gently leaning over to peer at her sister. Her _still sleeping_ sister.

Daria almost sighed in relief, but she caught herself just in time. She would not make another sound. Sneaking back to the door, she closed it with a barely audible click. This time, the fates went with her and it made not a sound. She headed back downstairs grudgingly. She didn't want to do her chores, her feet dragging limply behind with her arms numbed from pain.

Today, the inn had run out of firewood; Daria was told to fetch more. Heading outside with a large sack, she went to the small forest, only half a mile away. But to her dismay, they had fenced off to outside visitors. So instead she had to walk six miles away to the Auburn forest. Six dreary, long miles away. The going, for sure, was easy, but coming back was not. Walking six miles uphill with a heavy stack of firewood on your back was not an easy task. _No not at all. _Daria thought as she relived the moment. Finally, she neared the bottom of the stairs. Her mother spotted her.

"Daria, you're done for the day. I can close up myself."

"Are you sure?"

Closing the inn was not easy. You had to shoo the guests back up to their suites, and you had to kick out all the guests who were not staying over night. Then you had to lock up the front and back doors, but not before you turned the 'open' sign to 'closed'. It was a tiresome business.

"Yes, of course I am sure!"

_Well it would be nice to get some rest._

"Thanks Mother."

Daria headed back upstairs to her bed. She carefully maneuvered herself around all the clutter and Emma's bed till she finally reached her own. Sinking into the soft or at least, partly soft mattress, she closed her eyes and rested off the whole day's work. But she found that falling asleep wasn't that easy. She tossed, and she turned. Daria could not fall asleep. A thought nagged her mind, an annoying little voice whining that she had forgotten something go after something.

When she realized that she could not fall back asleep, she headed downstairs to fetch herself a glass of water a day of the end that inning had gone on and run back on the deny that the government stopped listening to a stop listening one thing every one of the stop listening and was that listening intently and a misstep. Gina and everyone else were already upstairs sleeping. _Lucky them_ she sighed, shuffling into the kitchen. She took a beaker from a shelf in the kitchen and headed outside to the freshwater spring they had a little way away from the inn, walking for about a minute until she reached the small stream. The inn was no more than a hazy silhouette lit by the silver moon overhead.

She gently scooped up a glass of fresh spring water, unaware of what was happening behind her.

_Back in the inn, the pudgy man woke. His head throbbed as he got up dizzily from his cold bed. Hangovers are extremely distasteful. He stumbled to his fireplace and lit it with a wooden match. His eyesight was blurry though, still fogged with sleep and his throbbing headache didn't help the cause much. He fumbled around clumsily, feeling for the fireplace and blindly struck the match, throwing the burning flame into his idea of the fireplace. He wasn't quite sure what was what, but when the air in front him warmed, he was sure that he lit the fire right. He was oblivious to anything but the comfort his pillow and soft blanket provided. But unseen on the dry wooden floor was the lit match. The burning red flame spread out encircling the room, hungry and eagerly licking up the flammable curtains and hay used to stuff the mattress, setting the whole inn alight._

Daria yawned, stretching lazily as she settled back to admire the cool night when suddenly she smelled— smoke? Glancing around, she found nothing and dismissed it to a traveler's pipe smoke when she turned around, only to find the whole inn ablaze in a raging bonfire. Once again, her whole life came tumbling down again.


	3. Chapter 2

**World and Characters belong to Gail Carson Levine. Writing belongs to Lemonlimesweetness.**

**Enjoy!**

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Daria was frozen in shock as she watched smoke billow out from the roof of the inn. Her eyes were wide, flashing icy blue then a fiery red as the flames flickered and mirrored the horrible scene before her. Her mouth dangled open, seeming to gasp for air like a fish out of water, all the while doubting the reality.

Suddenly she tripped and fell, having been unconsciously backing away, she now splayed out against the muddy ground. This was not a dream. She struggled to free herself from the mud's suction-like pull, eventually succeeding but not before soiling her dress further. It didn't matter anyways. Without even bothering to dust herself off, she ran. Ran as fast as she could towards the blazing orange dot bobbing along the horizon. Houses, cottages and fields of various crops passed in a blur, jumping wildly over potholes and hurdling over low picket fences. She was getting closer and closer to the inn although a taunting voice inside her head mocked _It's too late._ She sprinted without really looking anywhere except the fire, a tower of glowing red and orange flames, dancing and teasing her.

The night was dark and dreary, only a faint glow came from the Far East where Daria was headed. The long green grass lay tall and soft on the ground, undisturbed by human forces and dusted with the early coats of morning dew. In this part of Frell, the houses were crude and not really sought after for their rich quality and comfortable interior. In fact, they were roughly made: they had choppy roofs made out of wooden planks and tall stems of hay, walls and floors made out of dried out mud, with the interior being no better than a dirt floor with cheap whitewash brushed onto the walls for a splash of color.

She passed by one of these many houses. It belonged to Old Farmer McGraw, rumored to be crazy and the blame of the younger kid's games. Truth be told, Daria had heard that he was so crazy that every fortnight, he went down to the Lake Salda, fifteen miles away with his bare feet. Then he would dive into the lake, still fully clothed and talk to the geese and fish, telling each about his day. A young baker's son had recently told her that he saw Farmer McGraw reciting a recipe for pineapple liver to the small lake creatures.

When the baker's son had told her the atrocious rumor, she had just laughed it off and continued doing her chores, but as she neared the farmer's front porch (the fastest way to get to her house. If she went around the porch, it would only take another five minutes to get to the inn), she could not help but feel a bit wary. Her attention split between concern for her family and curiosity of the farmer, she didn't notice the old, rusty shovel propped against the house.

It had just been lying against the dark wood of the house, pretending to be invisible, just waiting to trip someone. _Stupid shovel. _Looking at her knee, Daria winced. It was already covered in a pool of red, the large gash in the middle of the incision had come from the shovel's head. Before she could think anymore though, the door opened –with an obnoxious squeak I might add. There standing inside was Old Farmer McGraw, and Daria was lying on the floor in front of him. Her widening eyes and agape mouth signified that she was in fact terrified. But rumors, most of the time, turn out to be just that.

"Are you alright lass?" he inquired, sincerely. If he was as loony as most people had conveyed, he certainly didn't show it.

"Fine," she mumbled, quickly scrambling up and turning to run, still being cautious of the supposedly-strange man.

_Perhaps he isn't that crazy. I have much to tell to the son of the baker._

Just before she left hearing range, she heard something that transfigured her previous thought. "Those kids, they remind of me of my pickled artichokes." He said in his gruff voice.

She rolled her eyes. The son of the baker would hear nothing from her. Pickled artichokes! The absurdity! Turning her thoughts back to the inn, she quickened her pace.

The winter grass crunched under her bare feet; she was half way there.

Though _not _reaching the inn on time would be disastrous, she did not want to reach there too quickly. She was scared of the consequence it would bring. And thought she willed not to be, she knew there would be pain, and she was scared of that too.

All too soon she reached her destination. She stared despairingly at the handle. The handle was made out of iron and usually was shining. Now it was glowing red from the heat of the fire. She looked around, looking for a utensil of some sort that she could use to open the door. _There must be something here._

She looked around, but it was fruitless. There was nothing there. Then she looked down, she was standing on one of the many random patches of wild grass that were scattered across the ground. She bent down, and her knees were instantly wet, a surprising fact that the dew had not yet evaporated despite it being so close to a raging fire. _Perfect._

Taking clumps of the grass into her hand (carefully so as not to let the water drip), she made a pile slightly to the left of her. Then, she tore a narrow strip of her gown, her dress now shortened until it came only half-way across her knees. She put the woolen strip on the ground and wrung the dew-stained grass above it. The cloth was now thoroughly damp.

She cupped it in her hands so it wouldn't lose any of its moisture, and hurried to the door. After she slapped it onto the handle, it sizzled and steam rose from it. Working quickly so it wouldn't soon get hot, she firmly grasped it and turned it around, pulling the door to her, grateful she had left the door open when she had gone to get a drink of water what seemed like ages ago.

The inn was steadily turning from its dusty brown color to that of charcoal black. The walls were lit up with individual fires gracing the surface of each one. Daria looked around, the crown of her head growing steadily hotter by the second. She looked up. The ceiling was about to crumble! Daria charged up stairs, but not soon enough. As she raced across the room, desperately trying to reach the stairs, the ceiling gave way.

Before she knew it, Daria's world was black. Her eyes instinctively closed with reflex as the roof crumbled on to her. She tried to breath, but air was scarce under the rubble. She could only spare one breath from her frail body, realizing that if she stayed any longer with out action, she would suffocate!

Daria frantically felt around her; her fingertips, up to this point, were more important than her eyes. Finally, she skimmed across a hard solid surface. She took it from where it was firmly wedged. She realized from the scratches and grooves here and there that it was the old slate she used to draw and write on.

She used the slate as a replacement for a shovel to dig above her, trying to find a surface. At first, she was unsure what was up and what was down, but gravity soon cleared that question, immediately setting to work on the tedious task of tunneling up.

She hit the burnt remains above her and it came tumbling down into her face, but she didn't care. She hit it again, but to no avail as more dirt hurried to fill in the gaping hole left. After a minute with only three breaths, she realized that she wasn't making any progress. he shoved the slate into the dirt next to her, and flailed her arms. She just pretended that the ash was water, and she was swimming under the glass-like surface. She stuck her arm up as high as it could go. The tips of her middle and ring finger felt warmth. _The fire! Air! _

Daria soon realized that she was just below the surface. She had previously not known how deep it was. She moved into what she figured to be a standing position and swept her hand to the side. Soon the blinding orange glows of the fire were once again visible, and she felt a small sense of accomplishment and pride despite the life-death situation.

Daria glanced frantically around, blinking away the dust that had flew into her eye as she shuffled blindly about. She looked through the hole that she had created and met a fiery red blaze. She took her hands around the side of the tunnel, clawing at the sides in hopes that the hole would widen but quickly scratched that plan off as she recoiled at the sudden heat. Her only way out was to jump. Closing her eyes, she braced herself for the hard impact and on the count of three, thrust herself through the slim gap. Sixteen years of hard labor actually paid off.

Half crawling, half tripping, she managed to worm out of the mess. Above her, she could see the second floor from where the ceiling gave out, but she had no time to marvel at this little fact.

Daria bustled upstairs, hoping they wouldn't give way under her added weight, and raced to the closest room, hers. Inside, her eyes widened with horror. Lying feebly on the ground was Emma, and engulfing her was the fire. Emma looked at her painfully.

"Daria! Help!" she choked between coughs.

The two beds were flammable, stuffed with straw and layered with thick blankets of wool, and had caught the fire. Seeing as Emma was in one of these beds, she realized with a sickening feeling that her innocent little sister was slowly being roasted alive. She was too shocked to speak, so she just nodded. Daria reached over to Emma but couldn't extend her arm far enough so she could get her safely out of reach of the flames. Frantically looking around, her eyes settled on the little passage that connected their room to the bathroom. Grabbing an empty pitcher on her crumbling bedside table, she ran.

The restrooms were in perfect condition in comparison to the rest of the house save for the soot marks where flames had licked the stone tiles, yet to be touched by the fire. Daria, not noticing this, hastened to the tap and turned the water on, trying to fill the pitcher. When the usual trickle came out, she panicked. By the time she got enough, Emma might……. She didn't want to think about it. _There has to be something._

Her eyes turned to their commode. Despite the fact that it was a chamber pot she was looking at, she stared at it like an unexpected present on Christmas. Sitting besides the bowl was always a bucket of water, to flush out the basin after you were finished doing your 'buisness'. Thankful that she had remembered to fill it earlier, she eagerly grabbed it and raced back into the bedroom.

"Emma? Emma I'm here!" she gasped, inhaling a sharp breath of the toxic smoke.

She took the pitcher and doused the flames around Emma. Emma's eyes were now closed, but her face was twitching from the sting.

Daria gingerly picked Emma up and led her out of the room. She was just about to head over to Danny's and her Mom's room – when Nathan had died, Gina had deemed their room to have enough space to fit Danny, and Danny's and Emma's room was made into another suite which gave a boom to their business, a small one – but she was stopped when the wooden frame that supported part of the house fell, making a fiery blockade.

Gina was fit enough to make it out with Danny and herself, so thinking this, Daria took Emma downstairs.

When they got back downstairs, she saw that she fire had died down just a tiny bit, mainly because it seemed to have run out of fuel, most of the hay thatching on the roof and other timber furniture eaten away by the fire. She stepped on the soft dirt from the ceiling with her bare feet; she was looking naught but ahead.

Stepping out into the cool night air momentarily cleared Daria's thoughts. _Emma! I need to get her away from here, but where? _The pond.

She broke out into a run, heading out to the spring that, or so she thought, saved her life. She ran across the forest outside the inn. They were sitting there, peacefully, un-knowing of what had taken place. Nothing had changed, or so it would seem from _that_ point of view. Half way there, she slipped on some grass and came tumbling down. That was when she got her first _real _sight of Emma.

She blanched. All over Emma's body were chalky white burns, her face swollen and red in a comical way made her appear like a tomato. But there was nothing funny about this. Her hands were disfigured and the ends of her beautiful blonde hair were singed.

Daria sobbed. She could imagine what Emma had gone through. And when she did, her chest pained.

_Emma laughed. She was in a bright meadow; it had mint green tufts of grass swaying in the breeze happily here and there. Weaving through out them were lavender colored flowers. They were dainty and fragile. She slowly picked one of them up and secured it in her glowing hair, and then she looked across to the horizon. There stood a majestic unicorn. His pelt was the pure shade of ivory and his mane flowed into the imaginary breeze like silk. Attached onto the top of his head was a smooth horn. It was brighter than gold, and it was harder than diamond. She ran to the unicorn, still laughing for an unknown reason, perhaps because she was just that happy. She reached over with her hand to finger the golden horn, but the moment she grasped, her hand got burned. Even when she let go of the horn, her hand burned, as though on fire. And her hand wasn't all. Her entire body did as a putrid aroma entered her nostrils. Suddenly, Emma sprang to life. She opened her eyes and looked all around her. The room was on fire. She looked at her hand that had gotten burned and saw that it lay on her bedside table, which was alight. She quickly hurried to make an escape, but before she could, her bed caught on fire. Next thing she knew, she was engulfed in a blazing pain, and so intense she couldn't even manage a sob. For dreadful minutes, or maybe even hours, she just lay there, writhing in pain. Then her eye-sight narrowed and the pain dulled. One of the last things she saw was piercing blue eyes. She felt her mouth shape out words, and she heard a distant echo, but other than that, she was aware of no more, and slowly she fell into an un-ending sleep._

Daria took the rest of the journey to the spring with Emma cradled into her arms. When she reached her sanctuary, she gently laid Emma down next to the shoreline. For almost an hour Daria just leaned over her sister, watching her shudder in her sleep and wake up to have fits, only to go back into her deep sleep.

Just as the moon reached its peak in the sky, Emma woke up, her eyes barely little brown slits, looking up at Daria.

"Daria," she said hoarsely. Her throat was dry.

Daria gently scooped up some of the clear water of the spring at brought it to Emma. Emma leaned over on one hand, and greedily lapped up the water from Daria's hands. After satisfying her thirst, she laid down once again. When lying down, her head skimmed the grass, and once again her body convulsed with a coughing fit. Her eyes were slowly glazing over as she lost her strength.

The fire at the inn had dwindled considerably, and everything inside was reduced to soot, but smoke still hissed out, the gentle draft carrying it along the breeze, spreading to where Daria and Emma laid. Drifting over their heads, it blanketed the sky, clouding the dark night, the moon no more than a pearly sliver barely visible beneath the onyx black cover.

"Goodnight Daria," Emma managed to whisper, her eyes fluttering close.

"Emma, no"

"I'm sleeping."

"Emma, please. Wake up!" she said, shaking her.

She didn't stir.

"Emma, please. Please!" Daria sobbed. Her arms circled her little sister, burying her head against her chest as she heaved her last breath, wrapping her in a tight embrace. Her fingers brushed across one of the rubbery burns strewn across her skin. What was left of the moon's light disappeared, leaving her in the dark stillness of the woods, even the animals of the night in respectful silence. Once again, she was alone.


	4. Chapter 3

**World and characters belong to Gail Carson Levine. Chapter/writing belongs to Lemonlimesweetness.**

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The sun dawned on a new day, glinting from an unseen force and blinding any passerby that happened to glance upon it. The sky was blue with puffs of marshmallow clouds here and there; some where wispy and stretched on and on for miles while others indeed seemed as the cylindrical shape of a marshmallow. The wind that swirled across the vast plains was making the forest's trees sway. Their shadows stretched across the forest floor, stretching their limbs out for a taste of sunshine that so evasively eluded them. The little spring glowed in all of its sapphire glory; it reflected the sun's everlasting glow, throwing of course any bird passing over. On the bank were splashes of flower, every color ranging from a fiery ruby red to a dark indigo. Next to the tiny river and the beauty that winter so often veiled, with Emma in her strong clutch, lay Daria, unaware of anything around her.

Thinking nothing of the two humans that laid almost un-moving on the ground, a tiny blue jay fluttered it wings back and forth, trying to gain wind. When no such luck happened, it slowly drifted down to the pond still not giving up as its wings moved more and more frantically, wanting to be airborne. Again, a sudden gust of wind ruffled the tiny bird's pastel feathers and took it skimming across the spring, the wings not longer having need to move. Its four-toed claws unsettled the water and the tiny teardrops of the river flew along the bank. These droplets also splashed onto Daria. Like a whip, her eyes opened, piercing into the sky above her.

In most stories that you have heard, the main character has probably had atleast _one _tragic accident. It isn't a story otherwise, right? Of course, in those overly clichéd stories, the characters sleep on the problem, usually, and then when they get up, they are hit by a sudden bout of confusion, only to be jolted back into reality, remembering that all was not well. Once again, I am only reminding you of those out-dated fairytales or other stories modeled after these. Daria was not blessed with such luxury. She knew the minute she woke up, or maybe even before that, that Emma was gone.

She was laying so innocently on the grassy green bank, almost sleeping, only she was deathly cold. Her skin, so pale, reflected the sunlight like would a bleached peeve of parchment. Her hair was colored shades darker, giving a deathly aura around that had failed to fall during the night before spilled out, streaking the dirt that layered on her cheeks. Her chest throbbed. Never again would she and Emma play together again. All those times were over an no matter how much she tried, they wouldn't, or the couldn't return. No more playing tiny, harmless prank on Danny and Gina, no more sneaking downstairs for a midnight snack, no more sharing problems and no more consolation. All those treasured moments were gone. And more importantly, so was Emma. And now, Daria was alone.

She sprawled out on the grass, lying flat on her abdomen with Emma on her side. Glistening tears crawled down her dirty cheeks and fell, from the rounded point of her chin to the rich grass next to the river. She laid there flat, her arms around her head, making an 'o' shape, her head getting sore from pressing down onto the dry grass. Her nose was stuffy, forcing her to breathe from her mouth, and her eyes were red, making the icy irises even more cold, and scary. She had cried herself out, yet, she did not feel any better. Truth be told, she felt worse. She huddled over, her forhead indented with grass and dirt, same as her nose, still shivering violently from crying so intensely. Her breathing came out shallow and un-even through her parted lips. Shoulders, sharp and narrow as they were, rocked up and down with an irregular, rough rhythm. After an awfully pedestrian hour, Daria finally calmed down enough so she could think straight. That's when she realized something terribly daunting.

It was her fault. Looking back, it all made sense.

_A resounding crash snapped Daria's head up, causing her to curiously step outside to inspect the scene. On the floor of the inn was a pale blue ceramic bowl-- or at least it used to be a bowl. Now it was reduced to no more than a few porcelain shards scattered across the rough wooden floors. Close to the crash was Daria's mother, Gina and a drunken man who giggled every time Gina bent down to clean the mess with her stained rag, making it difficult to clear the mess. _

_Upon seeing Daria, Gina stood up and lifted her skirts. Shuffling closer to her, Gina whispered into Daria's ear. _

_"Hun, could you please escort this nice man up to his suite?"_

_Daria inwardly groaned. Drunken guests were a common thing in their small inn, but they were always unruly. The aroma surrounding them was pungent, and their manners un-settling. It was hard to balance them after they had taken a rather large dosage, and they were just down right rude._

_"Oh, and hun! Can you light his fire; I don't want another guest trying to light their own fire!"_

_Daria just sleepily nodded it off. She took the drunken man to his room and trudged back to hers, forgetting the words of Gina._

_It's all my fault!_ Daria fell back down, harshly hitting the back of her head on the soft and slick grass. It was all her fault, and now Emma was… was… she was gone. But her mom and Danny could still be alive! She crawled over the grass. She felt a slight unconformity in her knee, but though nothing of it. It often happened if one slept in the wrong position. She lifted herself to her feet infront of Emma, still feeling uncomfortable in her lower leg, but not counting on it to trouble her. She bent down and lifted up Emma in her arms, toned by years of carrying firewood and scrubbing floors, her stomach resisting since it was famished. Suddenly, a pang in her knee brought her back to the ground. She dropped Emma whose head banged down on the grass, bouncing back once, a tiny bit, and let out a cry of shock and pain. Her knee was as red as it should have been if she had taken a chunk of the gravely road and rubbed it on, pretending her leg was a cheese grater, and the road was the cheese, and it was also swollen, twice the size of her other one, inflated like a balloon. In the middle was a purple gash lidded by flakey and dried blood. The wound was infected. She silently cursed that shovel as she felt it with her hand. It stung slightly, but it was not unbearable. Still no good putting pressure on it, but what choice did she have?

She headed back home, Emma cupped in her hands, so that she wouldn't place any un-needed pressure on her injured knee. She needed to get back home before Danny and her mom decided to leave, if they were still………..fit.

Instead of taking the usual path straight home, she detoured over to inside the woods. It was a small forest and whenever Daria needed to clear her thoughts, she stepped into the shadows of the forest. The deep and dark depths had her feel related to the forest, whenever her mind was murky. And somehow, the coolness affected her knee, not making it smart like did the burning hot sun. She stepped carefully through the array of leaf litter on the ground, making sure that Emma or her knee didn't get any scratches from the prickly thorns or pointy leaves or the bracken colored brambles, Emma being her main preference. Finally, the forest reached a stop and Daria headed out into a clearing, past a few trees that were heavily laced together, making it physically impossible to see past the gapless trunks.

The sun streamed through the branches of the trees and made the ends of the leaves turn golden, also making it possible to see the rays in the air; it dappled the chocolate colored dirt on the floor, where just about thousands of evil butterflies fluttered the multicolored wings (evilly), the ground seeing alive and dancing. Daria had arrived in a clearing, a surreal haven. The clearing was outlined with many intertwined trees. It was impossible to see anything outside of this leafy border. The grass able to be seen beneath the vibrant (and evil!) colors of the butterflies was unusually soft, shaded with a hue of light green. A perfect hideaway. Of course, with more important thought of finding her mother and Danny in her head, Daria sped off to the other side of the clearing paying no attention. As she ran, or rather limped as best as she could with her wounded knee, the butter flies, flew off, finally noticing a disturbance. They flew, swirled, up to the top of the clearing, as high as the trees reached. This awakened the birds in the trees-of which there were many- having them fly overhead, it was a spectacle. But without even a _slight _incline of her head, she headed back the forest with only one thought in her head: _Must find Danny and Mother. _At last, she navigated out of the forest to the paved stone path that led straight to the inn.

There was nothing left but burnt black ashes. The whole place was a wreck. Slowly placing Emma down on an un-singed patch of grass, Daria gingerly limped through the rubble. The wreckage was in the shape of the top of the roof, for this was the shape that it had fallen in, not daring to venture in the path of the wind. The entire house had collapsed. Instead of giant splinters of wood and plaster as one would imagine, like if there had been a twister, the entire inn was just ashes, a fine powdery substance, leave for a few metal and un-broken glass and other random items that had the liberty to not be reduced to cinders. She trailed the ash through her hands, letting it slip through her hands as did her life, one knee resting on the ground, turning black, hoping to find an item that was undamaged by the wild fire, one item in particular. She headed to the square where she estimated that her room had fallen from; frantically hoping she could find what she was looking for. She let her hand slide across the top of the ashes, searching for a promising bump. That's when she saw a lump a bit to her left. She reached over to it. No. It wasn't there. She then headed over to the outside border of her room where she hadn't looked before. She stuck her fingers in the black and sooty remains of her room, getting the ash under her fingernails and in between her fingers. She cupped her hands and scooped some out, making a small hole. When nothing turned up, she dug more and more until she was digging a grove around the border of her room.

She dug and she dug. Still she could not find it. Her arms ached from the constant activity, as her head ached from tiredness, for she hadn't gotten much sleep. But it didn't make any sense to stop, atleast not for her. Daria had made a pile on the side of her, where the searched remnants of the inn would lay. Trying her luck, she headed over and searched once again through the ashes. A moment later, she drew her hand back, tears threatening to come. She looked at her soot black hand; it was covered with glowing embers. She quickly rubbed it on her ragged dress. On her hands were tiny black burn marks where the embers had been. Not too bad, compared to those that had eaten Emma, but painful nonetheless. Daria ignored the pain and started looking once again. This time, rather than a handful of burning embers, which she was thankful for, she felt a cold and silky substance. Daria's eyes glowed. In her hands was Daria's treasure.

The chain was made from pure gold, as pure as a unicorn horn, as though that is where it had come from. The thin gold strands were laced together in an intricate weave, a pattern that could hardly ever be copied. Threaded into this golden weave were large pink and creamy pearls the size of peas and glistening ruby fires only slightly smaller. The threads were so fine that in your bare hands they felt as smooth as silk and as delicate as water, threatening to fall away at any moment, the only solidness you could feel were the beautiful gems, hanging loosely, as though they would roll out of your hand. And to tie it all together, at the center was a large and cleanly cut diamond, so white that it made the few patches of slush that had come in the night look gray in comparison and blindingly beautiful. It was probably more valuable than the Song Diamond. Of course, being under such conditions as the fire, it was falling apart. The threads had unraveled in more than few places, making it seem even more delicate, and some of the rubies and pearls had come off to be eaten by the fire. But the diamond was still intact, and it was still beautiful.

Now, you are probably wondering why the family just didn't sell this when they were going bankrupt, aren't you? Well I will answer your questions with a little story.

_A little five-year-old Daria eagerly knelt down on the floor of her dusty bedroom. The sun outside was slowly dimming, making the inside room harder and harder to see. After spending almost half and hour at the head of the staircase making sure that her mother wasn't coming upstairs, now was the time of revelation. She gently skimmed the outside of the floorboard under her with her tiny and short finger. Finally, her fingertip found a slight nub that dented the hard wooden floor. Prying her fingers into it and applying as much pressure as a five year old could muster (which really wasn't much at all), she pulled it upwards._

_The floorboard tilted up and up and finally completely came agape with a not a sound. Daria felt a smile grace her face. (Random A/N: that rhymes! OMG I am so cool!) Stashed inside were little candies that they always kept in stock as a complimentary gift for the younger children that visited the inn. The candies were really simple, being merely dried, cubed sugar that had varied colors and were packages each in a wrapper of dried out wax paper._

_Scooping up a handful of 3 little packages she left the rest of the stash to settle in the dark mustiness of the small space that dwindled beneath the floor and hurried off to her rustling hay-filled mattress, covering the candy with her forearm and hunching over so if anyone should come bustling inside, say her mother or father, they would not see the small bundles that brought every kid delight. _

_Ignoring the itching sensation the mattress brought to each piece of her bare skin that happened to touch it, for she had gotten used to that for a while now. Instead, her attention was drawn to the candy in her hands. Daria had a plan. She hid her tinier stash of candy under her miserable excuse for a pillow, for easy access. She tiptoed outside her door, still she saw no one. Giggling to herself for being so clever as to not being detected she was about to cross back over to her tiny bed when a voice behind her spoke out, "Is there a little Daria not in bed?" _

_She looked back and saw the sturdy frame of her father. Giggling like mad, "No!" she responded, and then she ran back to her bed, tugging her blanket over her little blue and white blouse and over her head in a pretense that she was sleeping. Daria's father was not so easily fooled. It is not so easy for a five year old to fool a grown adult. Creeping slowly up to the bed, he arched his fingers, a few veins popping out. Peeking out from under her cover, Daria squealed. She feebly tried to escape, but Nathan cut that plan off by swiftly removing the cover and wiggling his fingers by Daria's side. She let out a small shriek as Nathan tickled her. Finally, when Daria's face had gotten red, he stopped. "Now, go back to sleep, Daria." He said smiling. "Ok." Daria seldom lied if not ever, she would go back to sleep… just not __**when **__he wanted her to. Clever right?_

_When Nathan walked to his room, and Daria heard the door shut, she quickly grabbed a package of wax paper. She slowly ripped it open, trying to shush the loud rrrriiiipppp! Inside was a big blue cube, very lumpy. It was about the size of an apple, almost. It was also hard. Daria brought it to her mouth and bit off a chunk of it. A rush of sweetness welcomed her tongue as the chunk slowly melted in her mouth. Her eyes were closed as she joyfully took another bite. When she had finished her third cube, the moon was it's highest in the sky; this meant it was midnight. Her parents were definitely asleep._

_She crept outside, loving the feel of stealth. The thrill that you could get caught at any given moment. She entered into an empty suite and _ate _a sweet that she had brought along with her. She opened the curtains, wondering what outside looked like during the night time. The moon seemed to take up the entire window. Daria loved the moon, even at a young age, and she didn't know why. It was so solemn. She turned around, not caring to close the curtains, when a small glint caught her eye. _

_Lying almost innocently on the floor was the finest piece of jewelry that Daria had ever seen. Her eyes widened, how pretty! She took it up in her hands; to her untrained hands, it felt like what she imagined the main of a unicorn would feel like (unicorns had the silkiest hair in all of Kyrria). The rubies glittered even in the small moonlight, not red though. Instead it shined silver. The pearls were lustrous, but the diamond was the best. She took it back to her room, her plan to stay awake all night dismissed. _

_When she reached her small bed, she realized, it was all hers!_

_But whenever a guest left anything in a suite, her mom or dad would make her give it to them so they could decide what to do with it. They would sell this for sure. Other times, she would give it to them without a thought, but she definitely didn't want to give this treasure away. _

_She crossed the hall over to her room, all the way looking at the item in her hand. It was a miracle that she didn't bump into anything the whole way. Of course when she was a little lass, she wasn't really that clumsy. It must have been one of those things you grow into. Anyway, she trotted softly into her room. _

_She went to the middle, looking down at the floorboard. She bent down and opened it, took her hidden stash of sweets out of the dark depth and replaced it with the jewelry. After that business was taken care of, she opened the window and through all but one of the candies out of the window. Then, she tucked herself into her cover(s) and fell asleep before she had finished her sugar cube. _

The next day, when Nathan and Gina walked into Daria's room, they had caught her with a block of semi-melted, sticky sugar all over her hands. She had gotten in trouble and received a boatload of chores. The entire week she had no time to ogle all over it. And as only a five-year-old could, she forgot about it. Only until a few days ago did she re-discover it, and at that time her family was doing fine so she didn't see the need of showing her mom the gift, but partly, she didn't want to see such a gorgeous thing go away.

Now she wished that she had shown it to her family, she wanted to share its beauty. It was the only beauty in her life right now. She wrapped it with her hands, closing her eyes and envisioning herself with life as it was before. Her room was hot and stuffy, the open window failed to make a difference. Downstairs, the usual chatter drifted upstairs instead of the ever hoped for breeze of wind. Next to her, she could hear Emma talking fast and rapidly. It was easy to tell that Emma had eaten too much sugar, for she got hyper **very **easily.

Suddenly above her, she heard a loud piercing shriek which brought her back to reality. Quickly jerking her head above her, she saw a few of the magenta feathers from the silhouette above her drift down to her. It was a phoenix! The dark phoenix flew off, visible in the creamy blue sky. The feathers were dark and serene as they floated. She lifted her slight fingers so she could skim them over the feathers her eyes glowing, entranced by the startling silence; she could see only the feather looming closer and closer getting bigger and bigger as it drifted on an unseen wind to her. Ouch! The outside world had returned. The feather immediately puffed into a cloud of ash when she touched it, burning her hand. Daria sighed, wishing to go back to her pleasant, and short daydream, but it was impossible.

It was for more than a few reasons, actually. Of course, the first was: you could never return to a time when you were really happy. And though Daria tried, those times, she knew, would never return to her. The other reason had an outside force reacting rather than that of an inside force. She remembered the times, when guests had dwindled, and Gina, Daria, and the twins had nothing to do while Nathan tried to get money. In fact, the only way they could cope with feeding themselves and the few guests that came every month was by charity money from other families. While they had naught to do, Gina had decided to school the kids, for though they were some-what educated, they lacked that they needed for when they were older.

Daria immediately hit off with being educated, for her complex mind picked up a lot of things. When Daria found she rather enjoyed this new found knowledge, she used all her spare time (which she had a lot of those days) to read more and more books. She especially favored the mythical books of creatures in Frell. She recalled that the phoenix was an omen, one of death… a death by fire. When the fire destroyed everything, until no more fuel was left and there was only remains, it came by and flew to the ashes, feeding on it to extend its lifespan. It _was _only a mythical book, but nevertheless she felt a pain. A phoenix only came when total destruction occurred. For total destruction to occur, Daniel and Gina **had **to be dead. Right? No!

She clenched her teeth; she would not believe it, ever. Anyways, for "total destruction", she would have to be dead too! But she easily went back to sauntering, still making sure that she had a guarded expression on her face despite the deficiency of life, she was counted as "destructed" because without her family, she realized, she was nothing, worthless. She turned her back to the inn, facing where she laid Emma, her hair scratching the inside of her ear, not looking back. With the state of helplessness the land was in, it would be too painful. No, instead she headed over to Emma, her feet feeling the ash as though it was sand on the beach, for it definitely felt like that. Daria picked her up and headed forward, the necklace put deep into a pocket that was sown onto the inside of her frock, right near the neckline, not meant to be a pocket, but serving it purpose to be hidden, unseen.

_Where would I go? I have nowhere. And what would come of Emma? I cant just take a dead body around with me. Could I?_

Daria headed out to the east; she could tell by the rise of the sun.

At Frell, she would try for a job, she was good at labor, and there was a lot of that needed in a busy city such as Frell was. When she had gotten enough money to support herself maybe she could by herself a cottage. It wouldn't take too long, for the ones at the little villa she lived at cost a miniscule amount, and she doubted Frell could be too much different. The inn was set out to the west of the city, off a busy road where many travelers came weary and eager for a place to stop. A few days of traveling through the woods and hiking up Yauriy hill, named for the famous Ayorthian explorer that was buried there. Perhaps before she had to make the painful hike up the hill, her knee would recover. After that, she would travel for a couple more days along the famous Lucarno river, known for it's white waters, rich with minerals and nitrogen. This would lead her to Frell. How did she know this? When she had free time to search for books, she would occasionally come upon a few maps. So the 'where?' dilemma was solved, but what about the 'how?' The journey would take a week, longer if she was going to carry Emma the way there. And she had no food. She would starve. The river Lucarno would give her a fresh supply of water, healthy too, for sure, but there were no food sources on the way. And she could not work too hard for the burden of her knee.

Of course, if she stayed here, she would starve all the same, only she would do it without even trying. This made up her mind, she would start tomorrow, but today, she had to make sure she was prepared. Daria headed back to the woods she had walked in earlier that day. It was now mid-afternoon, or noon itself. The sun seemed the opposite of what was Daria's mood, with it shining in all it's glory in the sky. Daria swore that it was just there to show-off, _my life's better than yours! _It was hard to tell. But walking into the forest, the trees blocked out the sun's light that glared even more intensely and it was even harder. It was completely dark and even Daria's eyes were no longer illuminated and the only light that could be seen was the random patch of sunlight that somehow found a way to filter through the dense and leafy canopy. She automatically walked through the path she so often did, using a disfigured tree or a stone that looked different from the rest. Finally, she found the clearing that she had come upon the day before.

When Daria walked into the clearing, she was hit by a sudden burst of sunlight. She blinked repetitively so as to grow accustomed to the sudden change of lighting. After a few minutes of blinking and blindly staggering around, her eyes finally adjusted. The clearing was just as she had left it, only more beautiful, for last time she had failed to appreciate its beauty. Now it hit her with full force. It _was _indeed gorgeous.

At the center of the clearing was a flat stone. Perfect for sitting. She was tempted to snort, _how cliché! _But that action would not be appropriate for this situation, especially with a dead Emma in her arms. So instead she thanked her frequently "missing" luck, and placed Emma on the warm rock, the light gray surface reflecting so much sun, she had to squint as she approached it. The stone was covered with yet more butterflies and she was forced to put Emma down to wave them off; she didn't want them to be crushed. (A/N: but I do!) She left Emma there, but took the jewels with her. Emma was more important, obviously, but Daria just couldn't leave the precious necklace behind. So she took it with her, still having nothing to hold it with except for the small little pouch on the inside of her frock, but it wasn't that well of a pouch with two holes at either end of the wool stitched on to add another layer to the thin outside dress.

She headed back to the small villa. The people in the villa were mostly travelers, who stopped and decided to settle. This is why it varied greatly in cultures. The first people to live here were in fact Daria's parents and old Farmer McGraw. The houses were swamped and messily built with no particular order. By the time she had gotten back, it was nightfall. She had rummaged the forest for any food of any kind.

Daria crouched behind a cottage. She had been waiting behind there for an eternity. She sat down and brought one of her feet to her face. Mud and dirt were heavily packed on. Just a little more and it would have looked like she was wearing the sole of a shoe, stuck to the bottom of her foot. She tore off the dried mud, revealing her feet below. One of them started to tickle. She looked and saw a silver bug, crawling across her feet. She took it and flicked it off, the direction of the window. As the bug made it to the window, the light turned off. One of the last of the lights of the cottage. That was enough for Daria. One by one, most of the other remaining lights also turned of, making it darker and darker until only light from the small sliver of the moon was visible. She crept toward the front of the house. Right before she made it inside the view of the door, it opened. Out came an "obese" man. He was gruff with a little stubble and a thick mustache. He was sweating like a pig. Actually, pigs can't sweat, so he was sweating like a really **really **sweaty human. Daria pressed herself against the wall of the cottage, trying to withstand the prickly leaves that stuck out from the hedge beside her. Thankfully, as quickly as he came out he went back in.

Daria dared to let out a sigh of relief. She crept out in front of the door, to reach the other side of the cottage, when once again, the door _creeaaaked _open. Daria's eyes widened, as she stared up at the intimidating personage of the sweaty man. He stared at her with disgust for a little less then a minute, and then he barked, "Go away! You lousy piece of filth." Daria couldn't let out a sound for her fear seemed to seal her mouth shut. She scampered away. Away meaning the back of the cottage, once again.

The kitchen was in the back of the cottage. Daria could tell when the window was open. The light streamed out and she smelled food, food that made her mouth water, that reminded her that it had been two days for her _without_ food. Oh so wonderful food. She once again saw those bulky, hairy arms reaching out with a wooden platter. With a swift motion, he upturned the platter and on the ground splattered an abundantly big amount of scraps, left for the animals: half eaten apples, a lot of fresh veggies neglected by the children, and a big chunk of brown rice. They splayed out, a few of them rotten. Daria started to drool. Not in the sense that saliva dripped out of the sides of her mouth, she was just really hungry. She swept her arms across the dead grass, wilted from the sunlight, or lack thereof. Given she collected some dirt along with the leftover food, but this food was what she needed to stay alive. She scooped it up in the skirt of her dress, or what was left of her dress.

Hurrying back, she happened upon a dusty dirt road. She decided to walk this path, for the road was heavily padded with dust and underneath, a bunch of grass. The vibration didn't reach her knee hard and it was much easier to walk. The night sky was clear, not overcast as it had been the last few days, and it was a wonderful sight. The stars were as many as grains of rice in her skirt, only millions more. It was beautiful, and the air was just as refreshing. This was one of the few pleasant moments she had had since the death of Emma, where she was at peace. She spent about five minutes strolling down the road when she reached the close end. As she reached the end of the road, she saw a dark brown square-ish piece of burlap, just lying on the road. It was small, to be sure, but definitely noticeable. Daria trudged to the spot and bent down on her healthy knee, tucking her other one under her arm. She winced when she glanced at the dried blood cracking open. It was rather hideous, the sight of it. After getting used to the sight of the gruesome infection on her knee, Daria picked up the square of burlap. Or she tried to. When she picked up the mud splattered square, it extended out of a small gap. There was more she soon realized. She was bright, but sometimes she could be a bit slow. Daria tugged it out with her clutched hands. The dirt that buried it crumbled out of the hole, sure to give a hearty bump to any coach passing this way. The bag, it was a moderate sized burlap bag, probably one that had fallen out of a travelers wagon long ago, or long enough for it to be covered in mud and grass.

Daria eyes widened in confusion when she felt something slithery in clutched in her hands were a rough patch of burlap was instead supposed to be. She jerked her head down, and clutched in her hand was a thin and long rope, silver. It was a strange rope, instead of the crossed pattern there was supposed to be, there was instead a looped one, like that of fish scales. There was a disturbance to the color someway along the body of the rope. There was an oval of purple. Looking closer she realized that they weren't part of the rope. They were thin and lacy, looking to be made of tissue paper. Suddenly the fluttered in the wind, except, there was no wind. They were wings! _Wait, ropes don't have wings! _She looked at the end of the alleged "rope". Staring back at her were hard and cold black eyes. And a tongue, slithering in and out, in and out.

She shrieked and jerked her hand closer to her, trying to lose the snake. The snake, startled by the movement sunk its teeth deep into her compromising flesh, looking for a hold. Then it let go and slithered away. Daria's head was throbbing. A person could only take so much pain. Daria pressed her hand, trying to lessen the pain. Tears formed at her eyes. She brought her hand to her mouth, but as she tilted her bloodshot eyes down to look at it, she realized something was wrong. The blood was not the crimson she was used to. It was silver, terrifyingly silver. It was also thick and more solid. What was wrong with her? She stood up, wanting to run away, but at the way she thrust herself up, pressure was put mostly on both knees, her right, the hurt one, more so for she was more familiar with it. She sank back, more in pain than when she had gotten up and carelessly forgotten about her knee. She caressed her knee with her silver-bloodstained fingers. The blood, for a moment, just rested on the knee, but the open wound sucked it in, mixing with her _crimson _blood. Inside her leg, she felt a fire, starting from her knee, and slowly spreading out, growing as would a simple dandelion. Her eyes squeezed shut, the pain unbearable as the snake's venom acted in her already infected bloodstream.

Once again, she was faced with more pain than she had ever imagined possible.

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	5. Chapter 4

**World and characters belong to Gail Carson Levine. Chapter/writing belongs to Lemonlimesweetness. (I only placed deviders between the different sections.)**

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Her head throbbed; she was bent over in the pain, trying to keep up with what was happening. Her breath rushed out of her lungs. What was wrong with her? Daria looked at her knee through her squinted eyes, but failed due to the blurry shield of tears that were steadily leaking out. Her lip was already bleeding from biting on it, but the pain did not disappear. Daria shut her eyes closed, forcing the moisture out, and down her dirty cheeks. She brought one of her hands from the dusty path up to her eyes to wipe away her tears. And though her eyes stung from the dust and grit, she could see clearer. What she saw, however, wasn't clear…..

Daria's knee was propped up against her chest, her arms bringing it close to her, for any further and she feared the pain would bring it to disembodiment. She squeezed it towards her, starting to black out as a black fog clouded her vision. Her hand, rested on the Wounded Knee was supposedly touching smooth and _still_ skin, or so she felt from her fingertips no disturbance, but this counteracted with what she was seeing. Instead of the normally smooth, pale skin, there were ripples, like when you drop a small stone into a lake. Her skin was actually dancing across her knee in tiny ripples. They were the dark violet color that had been her gash, but the actual _gash _couldn't be seen. All the same, it was rather frightening. It just wasn't natural. Daria's head felt dizzy as she tried to comprehend what was happening to her. What would happen to her _this_ time?

The ripples headed outward but always stopped when the reached the end of the knee blade. Each ripple turned a shade closer to her original skin color, and away from the color of the wound. Daria only looked at it for a few seconds after being forced to look away. She couldn't bear to look at something so…._gruesome_ for too long, especially if it was happening to _her. _Eventually, she shut her eyes and tilted her head back, not wanting to look at it with even closed eyes. _When I open my eyes, it'll be gone! It'll all be gone! _Suddenly, pain in her knee came to a close, though she could still feel it's echo, and that is when Daria found enough guts to open her eyes and look at it once more. She was greeted with her once again _still_, smooth, perfect skin. She looked at her scrawny knee, had she imagined it all along? _Wait a minute! Perfect?_

She looked once again at her knee. It was true; the wound was gone! _Amazing_! She brought her head closer to it, inspecting. It looked as it did before the shovel had hit it except for a scar, stretching from one end of her knee to the other. She frowned, that wasn't wanted, but as long as it was healed. Her hands traveled to her knee. She pressed her fingers around, trying not to be careful as she tested her newly 'mended' knee. It didn't respond with the usual pain she was recently accustomed with. She pressed her hands against the ground, lifting herself up, but she put most of the pressure on her left leg. Shifting the position of her hips, she transferred this pressure to her right knee. She felt a slight pang, but she found she could walk again, if she felt she could bear the small amount of discomfort. And she could.

She walked more confidently down the dusty road, now that her knee was well once again. Her head felt as though it was in a haze. One she could not explain. She passed lime green hills, bringing out a rumble in her stomach as she though about food. She moaned as she though about the food she had left behind. Maybe it would have been a better idea if she had brought it along first. But she was already too far away. It would be pointless to go back to get it. And anyway, she could get it while coming back.

Into the forest Daria walked, shouldering her way past a few trees, ducking under some hanging branches, and occasionally tripping over some rocks. The pine straw and leaf litter underneath pricked her feet and bugs flew into her face until she wondered whether she remembered where she was going, but when she spotted the border of intertwined trees, she smiled. She put her foot on a cross of where two trees' trunks passed each other and heaved herself up, pushing until she reached inside the barrier. Finally she got inside the clearing, where lay Emma, still. Her face solemn, lacked the shine the optimistic seven year old often had. Her arms were hanging off the stone, helpless and worst of all, her skin was pale, terribly pale, obviously _deathly_ pale. A sight which waved away her hunger. A sight she was better off not seeing.

The moon hung, just under the horizon, as the sun came up, not wanting to wait for the moon to go back to its nocturnal slumber. The sky lit up with rosy hues, the vibrant pink of petunias, and the bleached purple of fresh spring grapes. The trees stood out with their wise and tall manor, while the (A/N: evil) multicolored butterflies made flowers in the trees as they rested. Daria grimaced as she saw the sleeping form of Emma on the rock she placed her on. It wasn't Emma. Not in her mind. She walked over, her feet crunching up the dried grass, as she made her way across to her forever sleeping sister.

Emma was lying down on the stone, not a sound coming from her. Not even the smaller whisper of breath that escaped while sleeping. Daria's eyes got blurry once again. But she forced her eyes to stay dry, locking the tears away as she did her emotions. She was took Emma into her hands. She left the clearing, for the last time, finally appreciating its beauty, now that she would never come back. But it went without saying that a lot of beautiful things seemed to pass her by.

She turned her back and went back to the road she had previously left. She came back to the spot she had left the burlap haversack and the bundle of recycled food she had scavenged. They were dusted with heaps of light brown dirt, but otherwise the same as when Daria had found them. Putting Emma gently on the road, she once again collected everything and put it inside the burlap bag. Once she was done carefully tucking everything she had dropped inside the bag, she reached inside her shirt, to the pocket where she had left her necklace. Half of it was spilling out the hole at the bottom corner. Quickly gathering it up to make sure no more spilled, she put it at a pocket at the outside of the haversack. Looking back, Daria saw that a few of the pearls had been left as she walked the way there, falling out of the hole in her neckline pocket.

Once all was in its place or so deemed by Daria, she hooked her pack on her back, picked up Emma, and walked away, to the woods, the beginning of her journey. One which changed her life.

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She trundled along the road throughout the night, under the shade of the trees, not veering away from her path. As her feet dragged along the bumpy rocks that were set in the border of the path, some smooth, but more sharp. Her feet started to throb and smear with droplets of blood pricked out from the pebbles. It was high in the morning; Daria heard a rumbling sound behind her. Turning around, she saw a six horsed coach come down her way. Panicking, she ran off the road and behind the leafy trees beyond as she waited for it to pass her, without sight of her. It never did. The coach drew to a stop right beside her. Inside was a man, only a few year her elder, she realized.

"Are you alright, miss?" he huffed, haughtily. Unfortunately sighting her bag

Daria quirked her eyebrow at his tone, but quickly changed her expression back to a respectful one as she peeked her head, then the rest of her body out from behind the trees. This man was obviously stronger than her, and she wanted no feuds.

"Quite fine, sir." She answered diverting her eyes. _I wish he would just leave now!_

"Alright then…Travis! Hurry on!" after looking her over.

"Wait!" Daria, exclaimed. _Wait, did I say that?_

Seeing as the man stopped his coach, and looked at her questioningly, she realized she did. She spoke further so as not to confuse him. All the while thinking: _Why__ did I just say that!_

"Do you think that you could spare a spot in your carriage for a young maiden?" She said, in her most sickly sweet voice, putting on a charming smile for an added measure.

_What am I thinking? _She groaned to herself. _Covered in mud I am. And filthy rags. _It was often her sudden impulses got her into trouble.

The man gave her a strange look, openly surveying her top to bottom again before responding:

"Well come on then. I haven't all day." still as pompously. Probably expecting her to know his decision without him needing to speak a word.

"Thank you!" Daria struggled to snuff out the sarcastic tone that was just dripping off of her otherwise kindly words.

Daria moved to get into the carriage, already lifting her bare foot, but before she could, the man had one more thing to say.

"But, put _that _back there," he said disgustedly, referring to Emma and the back of the coach. Daria knew better than to argue, and she did as she was bidden, stopping to give him an un-noticed glare. She gently rolled Emma out of her hands and into the hanging compartment in the back of the seats. Tucking back a golden strand behind her ear, Daria left Emma tucked behind a few trunks, so she would risk falling. She returned to the seats where the snobby man sat, scooting as far away from him as physically possible.

Travis struck his whip at the horses, a signal to start, and the carriage started bumping up and down in the rocky street. She averted her eyes to the seat across from her, looking at the man. On top his head was a scruff of perfectly groomed blonde hair. He had blank, blue eyes, which rarely blinked. His nose was a bit larger than normal and his mouth too small. His cleft chin made him look unruly and his 'rich-boy' clothes, shrouded with frills, made him look ridiculous. She _was_ quick to judge, she grudgingly realized. In every person, she saw only flaws, or mostly them. But she did not think that this man deserved any credit. He studied Daria openly and she found herself squirming under his leering gaze. Finally, a few minutes into the trip, after he got his fill of staring at her, he spoke.

"What's your name?"

"Da….Daphne," said Daria after hesitating, not feeling it right to give this stranger her actual name.

"Ah" he said, waiting for Daria to ask his name in return.

She didn't.

"Mine is John." He said, feeling as if she needed to know, for he was indeed important.

Still she said nothing, rendering him speechless. This was the first maiden that hadn't swooned at sight of his handsome self (arrogant more like it) or bowed down to his riches. He sat gaping at her, before realizing what he was doing and going back to what he assumed was a regal manor. _I don't give a crap what your name is, dolt, _thought she. But the amazingly thick man didn't take the hint and kept going after his momentary lapse of shock.

"Where are you headed?" he said again. "I am going to Bast."

_….Bast. The river Lucarno is that way!_

"Could you drop me off by Lucarno?" She said, for the first time making eye-contact. In her youth, her mother had told her many stories about the beauties of Lucarno, one of the only untouched nature resources in Frell. Of course it was a popular tourist attraction, the sheer mass of it being enough, but human kind had sense enough to leave it alone.

"Lucarno? Would you rather me drop you off by your final destination (sounding like a car gps much)? Perhaps I could visit you if I have the chance." If he hadn't before, he certainly said the wrong thing now.

_I think not! _"By the River Lucarno please." She repeated, now really ticked off at his behavior.

"Alright." He said. But not without a incredulous glance in Daria's direction. Young maidens off on their own in the wild? Oh the absurdity! (Sexist I know, but it _was _in the medieval time)

And off the carriage tumbled, headed to the setting sun, inside sitting two disgruntled people, for the same cause but two different reasons.

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Lucarno came into sighting. Daria moved her head from inside the dull interior of the carriage out the window. A sudden breeze hit her face. She closed her eyes, relishing the feeling. Gradually, her blue eyes opened, widening as the took in the sight of the famous Lucarno river. The water was startlingly white, not even a tint of color in its limpid surface. It stretched across the hilly land for miles left and right. The distance across itself was the size of two foot ball fields (length wise). All in all, it was a big river. Hanging across the crystalline river were big, leafy trees, leaves the shape of a cloud (you know, the puffy ones little kids draw) ranging the color of their leaves from the light tint of mint green to the deep hue of emeralds. Daria gasped when a splash from one of the many fish in the river caressed her face as the carriage sped past.

She suddenly came to her senses. The river was slowly decreasing in sight as the coach that carried them veered, to the direction of Bast.

"Stop!"

John started at the sudden command but did nothing, unlike the trained horses which _did_ stop when commanded to stop.

"This is where I take my leave," said Daria hurriedly, trying to get out before John recovered from the shock and commanded the carriage to start once more, also not wanting a minute more with this gruesome man.

"Are you sure you don't want me to accompany you or—"

"Quite," said Daria cutting in. _What_ _was_ _wrong_ _with_ _him? Did he really think that he would get away with that?_

She went to the back, picked up Emma and cantered away as fast as she could. Taking a one-second glance back, she felt a bit wary when she saw a strange look in the leering gaze the man gave her. Feeling uncomfortable, she walked a bit faster away from the coach, closer to the pristine Lucarno river.

She walked on the bumpy hills, covering the distance the carriage managed to go before she realized it, and it did manage to go a _very _far way. She could barely see the outline of the trees and river. Emma in her hands slowly grew heavier, as did her feet, and her eye lids. She dragged herself across the muddy ground, forcing her to take one more step, and then just one more, and one more, and one more. With the sun beating down on her back she warily took another step. Her head felt dizzy, begging for a small rest and her eyes started to see a black haze clouding her peripheral vision. All she could see was the river in front of her. And at last when she reached the river, she collapsed; she was thoroughly exhausted, dehydrated.

Daria had never held up well in the heat. Somehow, it happened to affect her more than any other. It was un-explainable why, and at the times it did effect her, it was a big pain. It was first realized of this ailment when Daria was seven—as old as Emma is…_was. _After that, she was always taking precautions around the sun, and other heat. And when a hot day did arise with no alternative then to go outside, she assured herself that she had a canteen of water on her. Today, however was different.

She fell beside the river, a shudder passed through her stomach. Her throat convulsed and before she knew it, she was regurgitating orange liquid, stomach acid, her head feeling now only worse. Her throat again started, this time nothing coming out, fortunately. Hurriedly, she scooped some of the white water of the Lucarno, feeling the cold water run down her throat. Immediately her head cleared up. She gulped more, each giving more relief. At last, she laid sprawled on the muddy ground, gasping for breath. Daria turned on her side, under the shade of a strange bunch of banana trees painstakingly exhausted from the sun. And so she slept, covered in more dust until the night.

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Lucarno at night was beautiful. The colorful fish from the tropics often swam in from the ocean into the river Lucarno, their multitude of rainbow colors turning into darker, mystic hues in the shadows created by the trees. The fish were indeed tropical, but they preferred Lucarno, finding its deep and clean waters a much better environment as opposed to the polluted, fitful waters of the ocean. At the very bottom of the lake, which was deep down though it did not look it, the shadows making it look even stranger, there were amazingly white sands turned opposite in color, keeping up with the transparent image of the lake in the day, and the gothic scene at night. Scattered here and there were scraggly green weeds, trying to survive in the sandy ground. Every where, large dragonflies buzzed here and there and there were no (A/N: evil) butterflies anywhere. Plump little fireflies also made present, putting light at unlikely places. And when squinting closely, by the light of the waning moon, tiny green snowflakes of plankton drifting at the top of the river could be seen. Above head, the bright green and red feathers of the exotic parrots swung across the canopy. The parrots themselves departed for slumber. And with the moon shining so brightly over-head, the entire river glowed an unnatural white, mystifying the sight even more with dark fire lilies opening their petals only to this ethereal glow. Gina had said while reciting her fantastic tales: _Lucarno only rises, when the sun goes down._

Daria gasped; it was all so amazing. She held her finger out, breaking the surface of the water and the haze of light that seemed to rise from it. She brought up her finger, it was not wet, but it was tingling from cold impact. Was Lucarno really as magical as everyone said?

Interrupting her thoughts was a foul odor near her. She sniffed the air uncertainly. That was strange… it was coming from her left, awfully close. She swiveled around, facing Emma. Nothing out of place here. Emma was just laid down, her eyes closed, of course, and her mouth slightly open, now that she had no control of the muscles it took to keep it open. Daria was just about to turn back around, when she caught sight of a small cockroach climb out of Emma's mouth. It _was _small, but at first sight of the miniscule bug, Daria unsuccessfully tried to stifle a tiny scream. Creeping closer, and eyes aware, she noticed something that had eluded her: Emma. With closer inspection, she realized Emma was…_rotting. _Her eyelids had sunken in where her eyeballs were supposed to be, her skin was thin, wrinkled, and dead in some places, and she did appear to have an infestation of cockroaches, though Daria later suspected this was because there was an abundance of these creatures at river Lucarno.

This gave her a horrifying decision that she had no choice but to choose. She would be forced to leave Emma, for good. To be true, losing Emma was harder, but now losing all connection to her, that struck her down, hard. Daria didn't know what she thought. _Emma would last forever? Her body would defy the laws of nature? _It was foolish, but that was indeed what she had thought. Just in a vague sense, without giving much thought about it.

Daria looked out at the enchanted river. Emma had always wished to go here, but work at the inn had held them both back. And it was so magical… Daria looked back at Emma. Then, she took the body into her hands, and lay on her knees by the river. Slowly, she lowered her arms into the water, floating Emma's body with it. Immediately her arms felt numb with cold and she was tempted to draw them back out from the shockingly cold water. She let Emma drift on the river as she quickly took away her arms. They were not wet. Suddenly the air in front of her warmed, and Daria's eyes widened in shock as the silver river reflected against the blue of her eyes turned gold. In front of her, the silver water surrounding Emma turned into a brilliant liquid gold, spreading down the length of Lucarno, until the whole river, or as much as Daria could see, turned into the sacred color. Suddenly waves lapped against the bank on which she lay. Startled she leapt back. Since when did Lucarno have waves? She watched in fear as the golden water swirled faster and faster around, dragging Emma under. Then suddenly, with a blinding light, it all returned to normal.

Daria got off the ground blinking profusely. Had she imagined it all? She certainly would have thought so if Emma had still been there. But she was not. So that was it, Emma was gone, forever. Daria looked solemnly at the river tears starting to well up in her eyes, her grief overpowering her sense of awe and confusion. This time, she did not try to hold them back; she let them trail down her cheeks and fall down to the grass below her, the tears a record, small as they were, of what had occurred there, mingling with the scattered dewdrops that managed to escape through the leafy cover above. Letting her head lay softly down on the grass underneath her, she fell into a trouble sleep- often tossing and turning as the sun rose, and Lucarno turned back normal.

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A beauteous carriage trundled off the well paved road. On its violet surface were intricate carving of stunning fairies and blood-thirsty ogres, telling a tale long forgotten. At the front stood four majestic horses, with well groomed manes and taut muscles just waiting for a moment of liberty, to gallop as fast as the wind, an answer to the restlessness that pestered them everyday, but that was what came with the tame, pampered life of yielding to a rich, well-known family. Animal abuse would certainly ruin their perfect image that they worked so hard to build up. At command of these creatures was a big-bellied horseman, with mussed ginger hair, bushy eyebrows, and a large mustache. Inside this epitome of richness, sat a blonde-haired man, looking out of the open door with a queer gaze. Through the tangle of evergreen, banyan, pine, and oak was a small huddle of a girl that caught his attention. Up in the front, the driver shifted in his seat, looking back, to talk to the blonde man.

"Sir John? When are we to go to Bast?"

John poked his head out of the door and faced the driver.

"My mother and father can wait. I have something else to do." And he went back to staring at Daria's sleeping figure. A thousand possibilities erupting in his head, and his steady frown turning into a dangerous smirk, he was planning a meeting with Daria once again.

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	6. Chapter 5

**World and Characters belong to Gail Carson Levine. Writing belongs to Lemonlimesweetness.**

**Enjoy!**

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Life is a peculiar thing. We see it every day, yet we can not explain its existence. In life's peak, you see what its worth, and while it crashes so do you; everyone close to you is affected as well. But each rise and fall, though it seems undecided, is caused only by our choices, these choices lead only to paths, No map is available, and those who try to create such a map only succeed in giving you a path that is not yours. Each route twists away, reaching new crossroads each step there, and eventually leading to even more choices. Farther and farther you go, making choices without a conscious state of mind, until you have reached somewhere so far from where you started, you have no way of going back. And who try tread on new un-walked places, those of which lead them away into a place of confusion, and isolation. And the hardest thing about each choice is the path you choose to head toward is one you can not see, each path is hidden.

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A swinging branch veered in the direction of the wind, floating on the sudden breeze. Below, the dark shadows shifted onto a new patch of grass leaving the bright rays of the sun to fall onto a different target. Squinting her eyes, Daria grudgingly got up, knowing that trying to fall back to sleep would yield no success. She dragged her feet closer towards her, her head feeling dizzy. Opening her mouth into a wide yawn, she gathered herself up, taking her rucksack and started to walk along side the river.

The shade of the trees, with a river right beside her, it wouldn't be too long. And slowly, the sun went down from its high position in the sky, and the faint outline of the city grew much larger. And soon after she woke up she found her self getting closer than she imagined was possible in the short time of three days. And, though she did not like it, she grudgingly admitted to herself that accepting that gruesome carriage ride was the smartest move she had made, so far.

As the sun rose even higher, she felt her stomach rumbling with hunger. Suddenly, she heard a squawk next to her. She tumbled back as a large crane flew over the river and scooped on of the fish into its elongated beak. Watching if fly away, she found an idea popping into her head. Finding a stick on the ground next to her, (a particularly pointy, one) she sat next to the river, not caring about the mud that clung onto her dress. Holding the stick tightly into her hand, she carefully watched each fish swim by. With a great swing, she plunged the stick into the rushing river. No luck. Daria tried once more. Again, she found no such luck. _Use your head Daria!_ She looked carefully over to her rucksack, of which was showing some cheese. _Perfect! _Taking that bit of cheese, Daria stuck it to the end of her stick. Then she stuck her stick into the water. Still Nothing happened. _Oh well. _Suddenly the end of the stick gave a big tug. Surprised, Daria heaved it out. And there was a fish at the end of it. Her eyes widened with happiness. Grabbing the wiggling fish off of the cheese, she started a fire, and cooked like she was taught to do back at the inn.

After the hearty meal, she kept walking, taking in the scenery and enjoying every part of it. As she ran her fingers over the smooth bark of a pine tree, picking a few branches off of it, she looked in front of her to see the city. She suddenly stopped, as her mouth fell open. She hadn't imagined it to be this close! Not much longer and she would be in the city Frell!

And indeed, in five minutes she neared the city. It was much grander than she had thought it would be. Walking around, in between scrambling pedestrians, Daria saw just how different Frell was from her little village so far way. The houses here were at least four times bigger than the tiny ones back home. And they were not made of mud and hay, rather they were finally constructed out of stone and wood. And rolling down the middle of the street were the finest carriages she had ever seen. Well, besides of the gentleman that had given her a ride, John was it? She glanced beside her, lining the street, going down as far as she could see were a bunch of little shops everywhere, each trying to outdo the other in an array of finely placed streamers and signs. One pastry shop had the most delicious looking treat. The inn had never had such delicacies. Walking along the gravelly road, she tried to look at each and every shop, and the people walking beside it. They were apparently terribly richer than she was at that moment. She glanced upon a shop; a peddler's to be specific, which had a crudely made banner and a cluster of multi-colored balloons. The sign said "Happy Birthday Megan". Outside the shop, she saw two boys guffawing loudly about something. One was tall, very skinny, had black hair, but a rather large nose. His cheeks were very puffy, and his eyes beady, and he fidgeted a lot to. Next to him was a boy just as skinny. His nose was as big, but on his head was a mop of brown hair. His cheeks were too wide, and he walked with a strange limp, seemingly for no reason.

"Hey Eric," said the brown hair lad with an extremely snobby, nasal voice, looking the banner. "You know she likes you!"

"What are you talking about?" asked Eric.

"Megan. She likes you!" said the brown haired guy.

"Jake, you're crazy," said he with a very small smile on his face.

"Oh come on. It's so obvious."

"Yeah, right…you know what? **Whatever.** I don't care."

So Jake and Eric cantered inside the bakery, still arguing about the matter at hand.

Suddenly behind her, Daria felt a long and spidery hand grasp her shoulder. Jumping away, she screamed in shock before she looked closer at who had grabbed her.

_FarmerMcGraw?_

It might as well have been. The old man looked exactly like Farmer McGraw at home, with the exception of his thick, dark gray hair. But he sure looked as crazy.

"I'm **95**!" he yelled.

Daria backed away, "um… okay".

As she quickly headed the opposite direction, she heard him yell, "Happy Birthday Meggie Laverne Susan B. Anthony the Fredrick 15.3!"

Once she had gotten far enough away from Farmer McGraw's "twin", she stopped and once again looked around at the shops, searching for a 'help wanted' sign that would make her day. She looked and looked well into the night, yet she wasn't aware of any, but eventually, she was bound to find one. Right?

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Two weeks later, Daria cursed her adolescent optimism. Jobs here were harder to find than a grain of rice buried in the sand of a 50 mile beach. Early in the week, Daria finished all her food, and had to sell a pearl of her necklace just to stave off of starvation. Soon after that, she dared not sell another one. So now, Daria was on the streets, begging passerby for a small charitable gratification, but none she got.

She walked by the wicker baskets which held various fruit and vegetables. She had become slight friends with the vendor and she usually got one apple a day. She jumped as she felt a hand rest on her shoulder. When she looked back, she smiled. It was Jeremy, the vendor. He smiled toothily at her.

"Daria! I was wondering when I'd see you."

"Jeremy! Yes I was just stopping by…because…"

"Yes. Yes. I know the deal. Here" Said he while handing her a large russet apple.

Suddenly a rumbling far down the road came clear as a procession of richly dressed carriages rolled past. Daria's eyes lit up. Surely they'd give a donation to a starving orphaned girl? She ran down to the street where they passed. She looked over her shoulder, where she saw Jeremy shaking his head. "Thank you!" She yelled before taking a big bite out of the apple and tossing it to the side of the walk way.

She looked down the road, she was still a long way from the start of the 'parade of coaches.' She stood on her knees, her hands cupped out, reaching for the cool surface of a single (or more) KJ. Tilting her head sideways, she caught sight of the open window of the grandest carriage so far, and inside this majestic coach was a face of swarthy skin, and a set of tawny curls. Daria's eyes widened as her hands fell to her side. Never had she imagined, in all her past ventures into the land of fairytales and princes, that someone could indeed be so flawless. As the carriage neared slowly, she heard voices from within.

"Oh look at the poor dear. Jerrold, sweet, give her a few gold KJs."

"Oh I'll give her something." She saw his full lips shape words as his deep brown eyes looked straight at her. She felt that she should stop staring, but she was frozen in his deep brown eyes. He reached for something inside the carriage. And as the carriage slowly came close to her, he reached out his hand and tipped an entire goblet full of wine onto her head. This broke her daze. Daria shrieked and jumped back, blinking it out of her eyes. As she did so, she saw an older lady inside the carriage look horrified while the boy was rolling in a fit of laughter. What she failed to see was the crown on her head.

Still slowly the procession went on. Right before Daria could leave she found another head sticking out of a carriage. She hoped it wasn't another rich noble bent on terrorizing peasants. What she saw was a kind face with green eyes and straight black hair that quickly popped back into the coach.

"Eleanor, what are you doing!" a snobby voice called out.

The door opened, and the girl, Eleanor was her name, stepped out. She was dressed in a very royal gown. In her hands was a dry washcloth and a small velvet pouch. She handed both to Daria.

Daria was surprised. After the meeting just seconds before with the other boy, she was surprised someone of the same age could be this nice. "Hello." She said pleasantly. "I'm Eleanor."

Daria smiled warmly at her and took the washcloth. "Thank you!"

"Here." She held out the pouch. "I want you to have this too."

And Daria took it eyes filled with gratitude. Eleanor smiled at her. Then, her head swung to the side, following her carriage that was at the end of the road by now.

"I'm guessing I have to go, now. She'll be having a big fit." She said to her while rolling her eyes. "Bye!" and with that she hurried down the street, hurrying to catch up with the rest of her family.


	7. Chapter 6

**World and characters belong to Gail Carson Levine. Chapter/writing belongs to Lemonlimesweetness. **

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"Daria!" A light tone called across the road.

Daria looked up from her chat with Jeremy the amiable street vendor, smiling as she saw who was calling out to her.

"Eleanor!" She said to the black haired girl that was running towards her.

Eleanor stood next to her, panting. "I have great news!" She breathed.

Daria waited, expecting to hear some daily news occurring in the interesting lives of the rich part of town, some thing that had happened in the girl's day. The story she got from her was quite unexpected.

oOoOoOo

(flashback)

Eleanor nervously looked at her mirror, trying to smooth out her hair. Her parents didn't like it if even one strand was out of its place, her mother in particular. She herself preferred it messy, and not in pristine condition, but that mattered not if her parents didn't like it. It really wasn't that she cared what her parents thought of her appearance. She mostly ignored their adamant ranting on how a proper young lady was to be dressed. But today, she decided it was only to her favor that she pleased them as much as she could.

"Eleanor!" She heard her mother call out irately. "Eleanor! Are you quite done yet? Dinner is in fifteen minutes."

"Mother! I am getting dressed!"

"Oh!" she heard her mother's surprised, but delighted exclamation. "Then you take just as long as you want!"

She rolled her eyes in the mirror. A habit she was quite fond of executing. It wasn't as if she had never needed to. Oh…There had been _many _occasions.

She put her focus back into the mirror, trying to style her hair exactly as her mother liked it—the way her peers (the other noble's children) had made it. She thought silently to herself as she struggled to pull a lock of hair back. _Silently_ because she didn't think it too wise to talk to one's self.

All the other girls whom her mother thought to be her friends were too stuck up for her. Too lost in their own prissy worlds to really realize what was happening in the world. But Eleanor saw. She saw every time she peaked out of her carriage on the way to the royal castle for one of those extravagant parties. Those people who never could have dreamed of all those luxuries they took for granted every day. This was why she was glad she met Daria all those weeks ago. It had been a month since she had known her. And with Daria was where Eleanor spent most of her time now-a-days. All her life, time seemed to be slowed down. But those days with Daria sped right by. So in that short time, Eleanor felt closer to Daria than any other person.

When she assured herself that her hair was perfect, at least perfect enough for her vain parents' standards, she headed downstairs. She was already dressed in her Mother's favorite gown. One using a prodigal amount of lace and frills. It was said to have matched her spice green eyes perfectly. Personally, she hated it. She hated it so much she wanted to cut it into pieces, then stuff those pieces in the blender, and then put the shredded remain of the dress on fire, and _then _use that fire to roast marshmallows and laugh manically by while dancing on the ashes once the fire died out…Eleanor was often told that her mind was original and unique.

She opened the door and regally made her way down the stairs the way she was taught to, one hand resting gently on the rail as she stiffly walked down. Eleanor held her head up so as not to let one hair out of place. She saw her mother in the dining room, looking around eagerly for when Eleanor would walk in.

"Eleanor! Oh my word! You look magnificent!" she gushed out, rushing to her esteemed progeny. "See? How many times have I told you? You look absolutely wonderful!" Eleanor was forced to stop her eyes from rolling, though she admitted to herself later on that it was rather hard to with this goggling women babbling away above her. It was a pity that getting dressed would make her mother this happy when there were currently tons of other pressing matters in Kyrria. She stiffly wrenched herself away from her mother and sat down in her seat, the farthest one from her mother and father's.

Immediately, servants rushed in with roasted and herbed scallops, drenched with a hearty sauce. And on the side of this meal was, for Eleanor's parents, a dark garnet wine, and for Eleanor some sweet cordial. Eleanor was about to speak up after her first bite, but suddenly, she was at a loss for what to say. She took another bite and opened up her mouth, but once again her mind blanked and she hastily chomped down another spoon. Soon the pastries were being brought in for dessert and Eleanor still hadn't uttered a single word. She chewed down on the syrupy insides of her richly coated with sugar cake. She tore her eyes away from her plate and to the faces of her parents of which were staring blankly into space as they did most dinners.

"_hem hem" _a cough came from her father. "I must go over to good old Thomas' house. Said I would be there soon after dinner." And he left the room. Pretty soon, the same would with her mother.

She absentmindedly scooped up a stray lump of spices from her plate and stuck it into her mouth while she though. Once the fiery sensation in her mouth started, her eyes started to bulge and she coughed violently. Her mother looked in her direction queerly. Once she gobbled down a few goblets of iced water, her mother started. "Eleanor, are you quite alright?"

"Yes."

"Do you need anything?"

Eleanor paused. This was the moment. It was a perfect moment and she had to take it. It was so hard getting the words out. It wasn't this hard to ask one of those common questions.

"Can you pass some of the strudel?" That was a very easy question.

"Yes, yes of course."

Now here was the harder part.

"Mother," she sputtered out.

"Yes, Eleanor?" she said back, strudel coming along with it.

"I have this friend…"

Her mother immediately brightened up, her elevated cheekbones rising higher. Eleanor often digressed from the path of social welfare, at least with their part of society. She was always pushed her to meet other people, but Eleanor always immediately became harsh and anti-social. To hear that she had made a friend let her spirits rise.

"From which house, dear?"

"Actually, she's an orphan, on the streets."

And those spirits fell.

"Her name is Daria." Eleanor put out.

"And, I thought that maybe we could…" she trailed off.

"That we could _what?"_ her mother barked out, "That we could just take her in?"

Eleanor slumped in her seat.

"Think, Eleanor, Think what that could do to our status. Taking in a filthy beggar girl. It would absolutely tarnish our reputation!"

Her mother's face turned down pitifully. "I have a hard enough time looking after one daughter. Might as well have had a son." She muttered to herself.

An idea sparked in her mind.

"She's very pretty."

Her mother's eyebrows raised.

oOoOoOo

Daria's eyes widened.

"You what! You did, and your mo—huh?"

Eleanor squealed and jumped up and down again. "All I have to do is wash that dirt away!" She let go of Daria's shoulders and surveyed her head to toe. "…And comb that hair, and get you out of those rags, and get those nails cleaned through…" Her confident pose dropped for a split second before once again coming back. "We have a lot of work to do!" She said determinedly, dragging Daria to her house with no room for any arguing.

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	8. Chapter 7

**World and Characters belong to Gail Carson Levine. Writing belongs to Lemonlimesweetness.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

A comb, plenty of cosmetics, a few bathing oils, a fluffy towel, and other supplies lay on Eleanor's tremendous vanity table.

"Yes, we'll definitely need that." She mumbled to herself, grabbing more supplies from the endless depths of her cabinet drawer. Behind her Daria was still exploring her gigantic room, lost in wonder. Back at the inn, her old room was smaller than Eleanor's _bathtub_, and even then she was forced to share half of it with Emma. But the room didn't seem so small then until she stepped into Eleanor's.

Up at the table, Eleanor finally seemed satisfied with everything in front of her.

"Okay, I think I'm done here." She looked around her. "Daria…Daria?" She called out looking around her. She walked over to the open door to the far right of her room.

"Daria!" She called out in surprise to her friend leaning over her bathtub. This happened to be the wrong thing to do.

Daria squealed in surprise and fell headfirst into the bathtub…

The 'full of water' bathtub. A loud splash echoed within the washroom. Daria tried to stand up, but found in bewilderment and exasperation that she couldn't find the bottom of bathtub with her feet. She held herself up by the edge of the tub, and glared at her friend by the door that was beside herself with laughter.

"Well, that was the first step anyways." Eleanor said, her eyebrow raised at the girl drenched in the tub. "Now we have to scrub you clean."

She quickly grabbed a few scented bathing oils, pouring entire bottles in to fill the enormity of the bathtub. The perfume layered thickly into the water made Daria choke with disgust as it penetrated her nostrils and traveled down her throat.

"What is this?" she questioned incredulously.

"Lavender bathing oils." Eleanor answered calmly as she scrubbed away the grease and debris on Daria's body. Daria spluttered as Eleanor pushed her head down under the water and soaking her hair with the soapy water.

"Is this all really necessary?" she asked, trying to get out of the tub.

"Absolutely; _You_ may not think you smell bad, but wealthy noses are sensitive."

This quieted her down.

"I am _not _smelly.." She muttered quietly.

oOoOoOo

"Ow!" Daria complained as Eleanor grabbed her hair back and beaded it with a shiny pearl. She was fully washed now, cleaner than she had ever been. Her skin was much paler than she had previously thought. And her hair was darker than she'd thought. It made a drastic change. But she'd preferred the smell before. She was now cloaked in such a heavy perfume, it was making her gag every now and then. Suddenly, Eleanor yanked her head back again, putting in another small pearl.

"Almost done," she muttered to herself. And with a last puff of powder, she smiled to herself.

"You're gorgeous." She reassured Daria. _Am I really_? Daria grabbed the great puffs of her dress, and tried hard to make it move with her to the mirror. "How heavy is all this?" she asked, feeling her hair towering above her.

"Stop being such a wimp." Eleanor said, disapprovingly. "And the peasants think _we_ have it easy." Daria glared at her, but trudged slowly along to the large vanity mirror, taking care to not let any of the tiny pearls that Eleanor had put in her hair fall.

"Wow…Is that _me_?" It was hard to believe. A beautiful girl stared back at her through the mirror. Elegant curls started atop her head and cascaded gently down her back, the raven black of it shiny and glossy. Little pearls beaded the sides, bringing creamy highlights to significant parts of the up-do. A large necklace glittered by her neck, making the neck itself look insignificant by it grandness. And the _dress_ was something else. It was a lovely mint green, working great with the paleness of her skin. The slightly ruffled bodice clung snugly, while the skirt billowed out in a sea of green lace. She was amazing.

But she noticed none of that. What she did notice was how it tied together. She looked just like all those other girls with large amounts of money. Snooty, full of it, and with something big stuck up her butt. "I look horrible!" she exclaimed. Eleanor laughed at her. "You do, but my mother will love it."

Daria laughed too. It was impossible not to with Eleanor there.

"Well come on then." Eleanor dragged her out of the room. "Mother!"

oOoOoOo

Lady Gianna, or Eleanor's mother, was a very sociable person. Which would explain why there was constantly company at the mansion. Like the large lady sitting across from her, Madame Vasquez.

This company was startled, however, when a loud voice shouted from upstairs. "Mother!" Madame Vasquez started with an un-ladylike squeal. Her glass of wine spilled over the plush white sofa, staining it with garnet. "My bad!" The Madame said, inspecting the damage. Lady Gianna smiled plastically. "You're not to blame. That rude child!" _This better be good. _She had forgotten already about the peasant 'daughter'. "Just wait here. I'll be right back." She assured Madame Vasquez who was pouring herself another glass. _And don't spoil any more of the furniture! That cushion is worth more than your pitiful existence. _She walked with a haughty strut out of the room and upstairs to where Eleanor had called from. "Eleanor what is it?" She asked sharply while still in the hallway. "I have a very important guest over and—" she stopped as she turned in her room.

_My oh my. _She caught a glimpse of Daria. Many occasions had gone by at grand parties, where the children of the other parents caught her eye, much more _grand_, in lack of a better word, than Eleanor could ever accomplish. It was torture to just stand next to their mothers and hear them bragging... on and on and on. And it wasn't as though she had any material to fall back on. It was _Eleanor_ she had for a daughter, and even she knew that Eleanor wasn't very special. But _Daria_. She stared at the girl standing next to her daughter. Absolutely brilliant. This was the kind of girl she wished she had spawned. She immediately pulled on a faux smile and put her arm around the beautiful girl, looking out of place in the large mint green dress she had bought Eleanor last year. "So you must be Daria." She said, admiring her sleek, black curls. "Yes," the girl said shyly." She heard the door open behind her. _The moose herself, Madame Vasquez. Wandering my house. How rude. _Lady Gianna turned around and smiled at Madame Vasquez, who had her mouth open behind her. "Is this one of yours?" she asked the Lady. _Jealous? Probably, with that whale of hers. _Lady Gianna smiled, "Yes."

oOoOoOo

"Yes."……… Daria squealed with Eleanor. A family of her own, a _family _again. Lady Gianna escorted Lady Vasquez downstairs, after winking at Eleanor. Eleanor rolled her eyes next to Daria. "Let me show you your room!" Eleanor screamed. _My room? _

"How do you have a room for me if your mom just agreed right now?" She asked, confused. "Oh silly Daria, we always have extra rooms we don't need. We always have extra everything we don't need." Eleanor looked at her knowingly, smugly too. "It's part of being rich." _I could get used to that. _"Okay." Daria was still unsure.

"Come on." Eleanor exclaimed, pulling Daria's arm. "Can I at least get out of this dress?" She said, looking at the endless folds and ruffles. "If out of that dress you mean into a new one." Eleanor said. Daria's eyes widened.

"_Another _dress?" Was this what they meant about the snobby, rich people being tortured souls? Because this was definitely torture.

oOoOoOo

"Daria, stop fussing. That dress looks great on you." Eleanor said to Daria while they headed down a large hall. "I don't care if it _looks _great; It _feels _uncomfortable!"

Eleanor sighed. "Stop whining." She then muttered to herself. "And the peasants say _we're_ whiny." Daria heard.

"I am not whiny. And no longer am I a peasant!" Daria reminded her. Eleanor smiled. "No, you are not." "No I am not." She whispered to herself. Then she looked down at her dress. It was red, making her ivory skin glow strangely. It was casual. Well not so casual to her as it was for Eleanor, but it was less than the other dress. "Do I really look good in this?" She asked, feeling once again like a carefree girl. "Absolutely." Eleanor assured her. They stopped in front of a large door. Eleanor smiled at Daria and pushed it open. The room was large, _very _large. It looked almost like Eleanor's, fully furnished. "Wow." Daria whispered, twirling around to get sight of the whole room. "This is amazing!" She said, plopping down on the soft bed. And it was. The only thing she didn't like about the room was the bright, florescent, pink of it. "Yeah." Eleanor said, sitting down next to her. "It was supposed to be for my sister."

Daria was surprised. "You have a sister?" Eleanor smiled at her sadly. "I was supposed to. But, something went wrong when she was born, she didn't make it past the first hour." Daria had no idea what to say to this. "I had a sister too." She admitted in a soft voice. Eleanor looked surprised. Daria had never told her about her life before Frell. She listened intently. "And a brother. A mom, too." She looked down in her lap. "Before I came here, I lived with my family in an inn. But i-it" her voice broke. Eleanor startled. "You don't have to tell me." She told Daria. She looked at Eleanor gratefully, "Thank You." They smiled.

"So.." Eleanor started. "Do you have anything that you left behind? You know items of possession and such?" Daria furrowed her eyebrows. There really wasn't anything that she owned. In her little corner where she slept in an alley, there was only a tattered dress, a ruined basket, and some food she had rummaged…and her necklace that she had hidden under the tomato. _The necklace. _"Tomato!" she exclaimed running out of the room. Eleanor followed after her. "Tomato? You want to go back for your tomato?" She watched Daria open the door and run out into the streets. Eleanor called out behind her, "Daria! We have plenty of tomatoes in the kitchen!" but it didn't work.

oOoOoOo

Daria ran without stopping until she reached the corner of the alley she had previously resided. It was no hassle on her anymore. Almost a month of living rough and she was tough. She knocked away the vegetables, and sighed. The necklace was still there. She gathered it up and tucked it away in a hidden pocket in one of the many folds of her dress. The wealthy needed somewhere to keep their riches. She heard a voice behind her. "Daria? Is that you?" It was Jeremy, tugging home his fruit cart. "Hi Jeremy," she said cheerfully. There was a young boy standing next to him. "Who's this?" She asked curiously. "Oh. I've told you about my son Peter." He had. But Jeremy changed the subject. "Daria what are you wearing?" She looked down at the red dress. Could it be any more obviously wealthy?

She held the skirt of the dress, and chuckled nervously. "I kind of got adopted into a new family." Jeremy smiled a big smile. "That's wonderful, Daria!" She smiled at him. Another voice sounded behind her. "Daria!" She winced. Eleanor was probably freaked out. But she wasn't. She ran up to Daria, a smile on her face.

"Do you have your tomato now?" she said with a chuckle. "Yeah," Daria said, embarrassed. Eleanor noticed the company. "Who're your friends?" she asked, curious. "Oh!" Daria said. "Ok, this is Jeremy and his son Peter." She gestured to the two standing in front of her. She looked at Eleanor. She had a strange smile on her face. Peter walked up, a smile on his face too. "Hello." He said charmingly, holding out his hand. Eleanor giggled. "Hello." She batted her eyelashes. Daria couldn't believe her eyes. Was _this_ Eleanor? "Eleanor, we have to go." Daria reminded her. Eleanor looked around at her and glared. It wasn't possible for her eyebrow to raise even higher.

Peter took Eleanor's hand and brought it to his lips, "Goodbye, in hope we'll meet again." Eleanor's eyes were left wide, as Peter helped Jeremy tug the cart down the street. As they rounded the corner, she sank to the ground.

"Wow."


	9. Chapter 8

**World and characters belong to Gail Carson Levine. Chapter/writing belongs to Lemonlimesweetness. **

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"Bring in more paint." Daria called out to one of the many maids she now controlled. The maid by the door stood straight to attention. "Yes, my lady." She curtsied in her black uniform, before running out. _My lady? _Daria sighed; no matter how many times she told them not to, the maids still called her 'my lady'. Probably just didn't want to remember all the names.

She picked up another brush, larger than the first, and dipped it in the thick, royal red paint. It had always been her favorite color, since she was little. She swept the paintbrush lightly over the wall, covering the bright pink with deep red. Daria had decided to get rid of the nasty color once and for all. She was surprised that her "parents" let her. She had always imagined that they were the strict type. But when she brought her thoughts to Eleanor's attention, Eleanor had laughed and said that 'they simply didn't want to deal with the tantrums.'

Sudden and heavy footsteps drew her from her reverie

"I got more paint!" Eleanor called out suddenly, running in with panting breaths. Her hair was slightly mussed. She looked much disheveled. "You're late." Daria reminded her. She had been planning for a few days to paint her room. Eleanor begged to let her join. But when the day actually came, she was out. Typical.

"I'm sorry." Eleanor said, picking up a paintbrush and helping her with the room. Daria '_tssked' _disappointedly. But a smile stayed on her face. As soon as she had picked it up, Eleanor dropped the paintbrush and leaned against the dry part of the wall. She had a wide, cheesy grin on her face. She looked at Daria excitedly. "He is so _romantic_!"

She was talking about Peter. It had been almost a week since they had met. Eleanor sneaked back the next day, and the next day, _and_ the next day. Daria, however, didn't approve. He was very handsome, and seemed nice, but whenever she was near him she could see something malevolent in his features. She felt sometimes that she would just imagine that part of him, seeing how Eleanor treated him, but it was a nagging sense that wouldn't go away.

"I don't like him." She said with a frown on her face, for the umpteenth time. "Why?" Eleanor asked, exasperated. She had wanted more than anything for her sister to approve. Daria moved over to another pink part of the wall. She drew a heart, and then crossed it out. "I just have a bad feeling about him." She said finally. It was rather like a sixth sense.

"There is nothing wrong with him!" Eleanor stamped her foot.

Daria sighed. She knew Eleanor, and there was no talking sense into her once she was set on something. She would rather they stopped fighting about it.

"Let's stop talking about it." Daria suggested. Eleanor agreed. They got back to painting the room. "Did you know that all the rooms in the royal palace are this color?" she said out of the blue. Daria tilted her head to the side. "No. I didn't." That was odd. She had always thought that deep purple would be the royal color.

"Then why are you painting your room this color." Eleanor asked curiously. She had thought at first that Daria was trying to feel queenly. She wouldn't have blamed her. After living on the streets for who knows how long, she would have liked some luxury too. To remind her that she could be royal.

"Well..." Daria answered, thinking. "It's just been my favorite color since I was little."

Eleanor whispered to her, joking. "Maybe that means you're supposed to be a queen!" Daria snorted. "Me? A peasant turn queen?"

"Why not?" Eleanor asked, serious this time. "You are technically a noble now. And anything's possible in Kyrria." "Well not this," Daria said pointedly, turning back to paint more of her room.

**Later**:

"It really does look much better."

Daria voiced her thoughts. "It looks perfect." She looked around her at her once-pink, now-red room. Eleanor plopped down on Daria's bed.

"I like it better than mine." She told her, pretending to sound jealous.

Daria shook her head still.

"Nah; it could use a personal touch."

Eleanor muttered something about people that could never be happy with what they had.

"So…," Eleanor started. "What?" Daria asked wearily.

"It's nothing really. We just need to find you a great dress." Daria groaned. "Why?"

Eleanor twirled her hair casually. "No reason. Just a ball at the palace." Daria yelped.

"A ball! No. No way!" She stalked off to the couch at the south end of her room.

"Daria, it's part of being in the family. You have to go to parties. 'Elevates the Social Status' or something." She ran over to Daria.

"Isn't there anyway that we wouldn't have to go to this one?" She asked hopefully. Eleanor _humphed_. "Like I haven't tried that already. Nope; no way we—no way _you're _getting out of this.

_Another dress! I just got out of the last one to paint my room! _She was wearing one of the maid's uniforms. She had begged her new "parents" to let her. At the mention of one of her expensive dresses getting paint on it, Lady Gianna hurriedly agreed. It was such a relief to get out of those big lumps of cloth. The one bad thing about it, however, was how short it was. It stopped a bit below mid-thigh. But you couldn't get everything.

"Eleanor, I can't even dance." Daria sighed, looking at her with puppy dog eyes. They didn't work. And neither did the excuse.

"Please, Daria. It isn't like _I_ ever dance. Anyway, I bet you the entire time, my mother will be bragging about you." She said so quite confidently.

Daria was confused. "Brag about me?"

"Oh Daria." A roll of her eyes. "You're gorgeous. My mother can't wait to show you off." Daria blushed. She had never discussed her looks before. She had never needed to. But she knew that Eleanor was so far the prettiest girl she'd seen so far, after living with the poor class. "You're much prettier…" She admitted. "Oh shove it." Eleanor exclaimed. "Really; beauty is only skin deep." Of course Eleanor was the only girl in Frell that thought so. "Now," she said, rubbing her hands together wickedly. "Into that dress…"

"No!"

oOoOoOo

"This is too much." She said, looking at the largeness of her light pink gown. The skirt especially was over done. It looked like silk and there were big folds of it over lapping the other, held in place with beautiful beads. Daria had a faint suspicion that they were genuine gemstones. The top was fit with a million tiny sequins, glittering even without any light. Somehow, in a way that she didn't know was possible, the pink dress ended up being larger and grander than the green.

Eleanor was wearing a beautiful white dress, looking like she was going to a wedding. Unlike Daria's, it had no sleeves and the bodice was plain. And instead of the skirt poofing out in front of her, it just drifted behind in a long elegant train (which belied Eleanor's usual clumsiness). Somehow, she looked like she truly belonged in the dress. Not because of her looks, or the way the dress clung to her body like Daria, but in the way she held herself in it. Her pose that showed raw kindness, warm humor, and just the happiness you felt being around her would draw in more admirers than would just a pretty face, in Daria's opinion.

Eleanor started again with the explanations. "Now remember," we are going to the royal _palace_, to see the king, queen, and _prince._ And you need to wear something fit. Everyone, who is anyone, is going to be there. And there'll be a lot of food and _wine._"

Daria simply stared at her, confused at the emphasis in the sentence.

Eleanor sighed. "Never mind."

"Eleanor, Daria! Come down, it's time to leave." The hurried out of the room and rushed down the grand staircase. Lady Gianna saw them rushing. "Oh do no bustle around so much! Take your time. We'd rather be late than be messes." She taught them. "

Eleanor simply rolled her eyes while Daria giggled. The manservant held open the door for them as they walked down to the carriage. The three of them squeezed onto the velvety seats, and then with a cracking whip and a yell, they headed off.

Daria whispered over to Eleanor. "What does the palace look like?" Eleanor whispered back excitedly. "Oh! It's amazing. I think it was just down the street from where you lived when _you were a peasant. _The _prince, _is our age, though I've never talked to him before."

"Do you think he's nice?"

Eleanor was very tempted to hit her over the head with something heavy. Daria had completely disregarded the strain she put on her words. She gave up and answered dishonestly, for her mother was listening with her head turned the other way.

"I think he's a wonderful person." But she concurrently shook her head vigorously. Daria stifled a laugh, but kept a large smile.

Lady Gianna suddenly spoke up. "Oh! We're here!" she said with excitement. Daria quickly looked out her window. "Wow." She whispered.

It was larger than even Eleanor's house, and Daria hadn't thought that that was possible. Its large turrets reached up for the sky, and it hugged the ground as far as one could see. The little windows closest to the middle were lit brightly, showing beautiful silhouettes swirling a graceful waltz.

Lady Gianna and Eleanor, however, left the gaping to Daria, for they had seen the palace far too many times. In truth, what else did the nobles have to do?

The coachman directed the horses to where many other carriages were settled down. "Come on Daria, let's go." Eleanor whispered. Daria turned her head from the amazing palace and consented. "Okay." She started to open the door, but before she could reach the handle, it was open. She sighed. Living wealthy made her feel so incompetent.

She then looked down at the dilemma of her skirt. She grabbed as much as would fit into her hands and gingerly put her foot on the ground. She smiled once it was in place and confidently put the other foot down to join Eleanor and her mother.

They headed towards the grande staircase leading to the door, Lady Gianna leading, and the two girls walking side by side behind her. As she reached the bottom of the staircase, Daria found herself sprawled across the steps.

She stifled a curse, though the option was tempting.

A few days ago, Daria had been taken to get measured for new gowns. A pin had happened to prick her. When the un-holy word slipped from her mouth, Lady Gianna had gasped from the side-lines with a scandalized look on her face.

She had steered Daria out before the seamstress could finish, and they headed straight home.

Letting another slip of the mouth wouldn't go good here, especially not with all the other people. Eleanor was immediately by her side. "Don't walk too quickly." She whispered to her, helping her up the stairs.

oOoOoOo

"Wow." Daria whispered, her eyes debating on whether to squint to focus on a single piece of mastery or to widen and take everything in. The large, circular ballroom was full of everything including drink tables, elegant ornaments, handsome young suitors, and gorgeous maidens. Perfect ingredients for a ball.

Eleanor smiled, taking her hand and leading her to the dance floor. They stopped right at the border, being hit with small gusts of wind as the couples twirled past them.

It was then that the frightening realization hit Daria. "Eleanor! I don't know how to dance!" Eleanor looked at her surprised, and then furrowed her eyebrows. "Hadn't thought of that." She muttered to herself. This only led to Daria being at the threshold of full-fledged panic mode.

"Calm down," Eleanor hissed as she heard her sister start to hyperventilate. This really was a dilemma.

"Okay, I think—" she was cut off by one of the men stopping in front of them. Daria specifically.

"Can I treat my lady to a dance?" He asked smoothly. Daria shyly looked away as Eleanor snickered beside her. She had every intention of saying no, but as her head was turned away, she caught sight of Lady Gianna's face. The look on there said that there was no way Daria was allowed to say no. How great.

"Sure…" she said quietly. The man immediately took her hands and swept her into proper position. She was met by his ruffled sleeve in a close proximity to her face. He dragged her across the room, taking big army steps. There was no room to make any movement of her own, for the man felt the need to make her his personal puppet. She looked back at Eleanor.

She, too, had been asked to dance. Daria guessed that Lady Gianna hadn't let her say no, either.

But Eleanor took great care to stomp on her partner's foot with every single step she took. Hard.

Unfortunately for Eleanor, her partner looked too smitten to care.

At last, the music drew to a close, and Daria was able to escape from her partner. Just in time too, for it looked like he was about to ask her for another dance. She grabbed Eleanor on the way, who looked like she was about to swing her leg into places very unpleasant.

"The nerve of him!" Eleanor growled. "Acting like I'm his…his…UGH!"

"Like mine was any better!" Daria ranted. "I didn't even have to lift a leg. He just dragged me everywhere!" She grabbed a glass of red wine by the table, and took an angry gulp. It wasn't enough to make a difference in the volume. The goblets in the palace were _huge. _

oOoOoOo

(_Jerrold POV, yeah, I know it's in first person and the rest of the story isn't, but just bear with me here okay? We need to see what's going on in his head. His awkward, awkward head.)_

These dances were never-ending.

They _never_-ended.

Girl after girl after girl, they just kept coming back for more. A bunch of piranhas. Or vultures could be a better name, as they all _did _look like vultures. A bunch of greedy, stalker vultures.

Especially the smiles. The large, wide, menacing smiles that gave me the most haunting nightmares. Those made the whole ball experience even less enjoyable. What guy would want to be in a stupid ball when they could just, just do _anything_ else. No sane one, that was for sure.

I had taken to hiding behind the beverage table, cowering behind the legs when any of the more assertive girls walked by. It was pitiful I knew, to hide, a _crown prince _especially, but it was the best I could do. And I maintained more dignity doing this than running away…in the sense that no one saw me.

I suddenly stiffened as I felt the hem of a skirt brush my arm. I looked above me. Thankfully, the girl that was leaning against the drink table was faced the other way and didn't see me. I relaxed when I came to that realization. That was when I really _saw _her.

She was absolutely lovely, with her glossy black locks and petite frame. And her perfectly sculpted face wasn't sharp and angular like all the other stiff beauties in the room. It was like an angel's face, her cheeks rounded to fit a beautiful, happy smile.

I had to admit that I might have drooled…No, wait, that was just spilled water seeping through the tablecloth.

I looked at her angel's face with scrutiny. Though I didn't know where from, she looked familiar. So very familiar.

I was suddenly awoken from my trance when Mother called.

"Jerrold. It's time to greet the guests. Goodness child, where are you?"

Ah, Time to face reality.

I looked back one last time for the girl, and there she was, talking to another pretty girl, though that other girl was no where near as lovely as my beauty.

I sighed before crawling out the other side of the table and behind a plant. And so I appeared from behind the plant, and no one noticed where I was hiding.

I ran over to where I saw my mother bustling about, still looking for me. Her face broke out in a wide smile as she saw me.

"Jerrold!" She said joyfully. "Oh, come on now, dear. Lady Gianna and Eleanor have a new addition to their family and we must just meet her." My ears immediately perked up. Eleanor! That was the person I had seen the girl talking to. So that must mean that this was the same girl. I obediently followed my mother, for once, wanting my chance to talk to her.

What a mess. A prince, smitten with a girl he's never even talked to. A girl he doesn't even know. Ah well. That was life, right?

I followed my mother to the other corner of the ballroom, seeing them in the distance.

At first, all I saw was her beauty…

Then I saw her anger.

oOoOoOo

Daria clutched her glass of garnet wine, talking to Eleanor. She felt uneasy, as if she was being watched. But she had felt like that for a long time now, so she ignored it.

"And then my mother caught me. I was in so much trouble. And for stuffing my shoes too!" Eleanor laughed here, interrupting her own story. "And after she calmed down, she told me the whole tale, about being "friends of fairies", or something. And she told me that our cook was a fairy too! Mandy's been here for centuries! And she makes the most amazing food." Eleanor came to the end of her tale. Daria laughed at her flippant way of saying something that was actually very much a big deal. "No wonder your feet are so small!"

Lady Gianna came out of nowhere next to them.

"Girls! The Queen and the Prince would like to meet us!"

Eleanor looked at the hand in which Daria held her glass and laughed.

Daria squinted her eyes, confused.

"What?" She whispered to Eleanor as their mother ushered them to meet the royal family.

"Nothing of importance." Eleanor said, cheeks red from laughter. Daria rolled her eyes. She was so random sometimes.

The waited in the small unoccupied corner of the room. Finally, they spotted two figures walking towards them from the distance. As their faces came into view, Daria felt hers distort in rage.

A simple moment replayed in her mind.

_She looked down the road, she was still a long way from the start of the 'parade of coaches.' She stood on her knees, her hands cupped out, reaching for the cool surface of a single (or more) KJ. Tilting her head sideways, she caught sight of the open window of the grandest carriage so far, and inside this majestic coach was a face of swarthy skin, and a set of tawny curls. Daria's eyes widened as her hands fell to her side. Never had she imagined, in all her past ventures into the land of fairytales and princes, that someone could indeed be so flawless. As the carriage neared slowly, she heard voices from within. _

_"Oh look at the poor dear. Jerrold, sweet, give her a few gold KJs."_

_"Oh I'll give her something." She saw his full lips shape words as his deep brown eyes looked straight at her. She felt that she should stop staring, but she was frozen in his deep brown eyes. He reached for something inside the carriage. And as the carriage slowly came close to her, he reached out his hand and tipped an entire goblet full of wine onto her head. This broke her daze. Daria shrieked and jumped back, blinking it out of her eyes. As she did so, she saw an older lady inside the carriage look horrified while the boy was rolling in a fit of laughter. What she failed to see was the crown on her head. _

So the jerk was a prince. Of course. Everyone knew the fairytales were wrong. Nobility didn't come with kindness; they were all stuck-up snobs. And she should have known. She gripped her glass harder.

The boy, Jerrold, looked alarmed as he walked closer, taken aback by her glares. But she saw no recognition. So he didn't even remember. She clenched her teeth.

The Queen and Prince stopped in front of them.

"So is this your new daughter, Lady Gianna?" The queen asked, observing the girl.

"Yes." The woman said proudly. "This is my Daria."

Jerrold walked up to her and bowed. "It's a pleasure to meet you." He said suavely. It had no effect on her anger.

She looked down at her glass, and something clicked in her mind.

In one fluid movement, she threw the contents of her glass into his face, feeling great joy as she saw the red stain his face. She then dropped the goblet on the floor behind her, and stalked away. But she felt a smile touch her face.

Oh, sweet comeuppance.

**

* * *

**


	10. Chapter 9

**World and Characters belong to Gail Carson Levine. Writing belongs to Lemonlimesweetness.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

"Eleanor! Such a disgrace. In front of the entire court all the same!"

Daria closed her eyes and leaned against the door she was listening at. It wasn't like she needed to. She already knew what was going to happen. She was merely anxious for Eleanor. Apparently, the 'disgrace' was her fault. It was stupid, Daria realized as she looked back on it, to act so quickly on impulse. That moment of anger had resulted in that sodding prince sending her back to where he first found her. It was all his fault. Entirely and completely. She tuned her thoughts back to the conversation.

"That's enough! She has to go!" Lady Gianna said in a voice that couldn't be reasoned with.

She and Eleanor had been arguing about the matter since morning. When they'd gotten back from the disastrous ball, Lady Gianna had screamed for a maid to follow her to her room for a relaxing massage and went to bed immediately after. But before she did, the two children heard many crashes of breaking objects. Daria knew since then, actually she knew even before, that'd she'd be sent back to the streets.

_Ah well, _Daria always was a tough cookie. And it wasn't too horrible on the road. She quietly gave herself a mini pep talk as Eleanor kept arguing inside the closed oak doors.

"You know what he did to her! It was his fault in the first place!"

"He can do whatever he pleases! Don't you understand that, Eleanor? He is a _prince_. Unfortunately, the same privilege does not extend to the rest of us, as Daria so clearly tried to disprove."

Daria heard bustling inside. She guessed Lady Gianna had stood up. "That's enough! One more word out of you and you'll be following her out those doors."

Daria's heart sunk. She had gotten to know Eleanor well enough over the past month to predict what she would say next. And in Daria's mind, it was pretty darn stupid of a thing to do.

"Fine." Eleanor said calmly.

"Thank you, Eleanor." Lady Gianna said, sighing.

"No. I meant, fine, I'll go with her."

Daria could imagine the look of shock on Lady Gianna's face.

"Eleanor!" She exclaimed. "Think for a second what you're saying!"

Daria pressed her eye back into the keyhole of the door. Through it, she could see Lady Gianna and part of Eleanor on the left side. They were both standing up. Lady Gianna's arms were limply at her side, while Eleanor's were crossed stubbornly at her chest. Eleanor nodded curtly.

"I know what I'm saying, Mother. I've made my decision."

Lady Gianna looked close to fainting.

"B-b-bu…" Daria saw the woman stutter. Her discomfort and total lacking in the right thing to do was completely out of character…and kind of hysterical.

"—However," Eleanor continued, and Daria saw the start of a smirk touch her lips, "think of what everyone will say once they hear that you've abandoned your own blood to perish as a _peasant._" And at this she held her hand to her forehead in mock horror. Daria snickered. Eleanor really knew how to blow things out of proportion.

Lady Gianna looked like a deer caught in the headlights of a very large monster truck (so to say in modern speak).

Finally she held hear head in her hands in defeat and proclaimed very dramatically, "Oh woe is me. What other choice have I?"

Daria sunk slowly to the ground near the doors, light-headed with relief. She was staying, with Eleanor! She let out a strangled yelp of joy. The ladies inside didn't hear because Elenaor had already started squealing and showering her mother with thanks. Daria peered back into the keyhole. Eleanor's face, although happy was clearly unsurprised. Though, Elenaor was a complete mystery to her mother, she knew everything there was to know about Lady Gianna. Eleanor looked towards the door and winked, guessing who was crouching behind, listening intently while simultaneously tittering with joy.

But then, right when their poor ears were adjusting to the quiet, they were struck by the sound of a high-pitched trumpet blowing outside. Daria stood up abruptly, succeeding in slamming into the golden door knob above her. She stepped away from the door as Eleanor and Lady Gianna stepped out of the Living Room. They all knew what the trumpeting meant.

It was the royal herald, sent out to deliver a royal message. They shoved open the front doors and watched as he galloped down the road on his grey-patched steed. This was the richer part of town, where all the nobles lived, and they were all friendly with the family of the castle, but only on certain, _special _occasions did they send the herald out. They saw other little heads poking out of their windows and doors as they watched him pass. They watched nervously as the herald got to the end of the road and started towards their house. Lady Gianna glared most venomously at Daria; they knew what kind of message the Prince would like to deliver…not too pleasant, so to say.

He stopped a way away fro the door and blew his trumpet once more and then started to speak in his loud baritone. And then he said something none of them expected. "His highness Jerrold, crown prince of our blessed land Kyrria, royally declares his greatest apologies to the fair maiden Daria."

The three of them stood still by the doorway, beset with shock.

He cleared his throat and continued. "And the entire royal family extends their invite to her and following family to join them for supper in a moonrise away at the banquet hall." He then bowed as low as he could without looking like he was sniffing his horse. Then he straightened up, tucking that blasted trumpet to a holder slung on his back. "Hyah!" He yelled, and he steered the horse back down the street.

Lady Gianna's face was shining. She hugged Daria close to her. "Oh my child. How pleasant! I always knew you did the right thing."

oOoOoOo

"Eleanor!" Daria screamed at her. She was hiding under the covers. She sat down on the bed and weakly hit the lump underneath.

"Daria…" she groaned. "Do not impair my hearing."

"You can't just let me go alone! With the Prince. Who. I. HATE."

"I can't help it if I'm sick." Her voice muffled out from the duvet. She had called sick this evening, and now she got to bail out with the Prince's "apology dinner", leaving Daria to survive with her own devices. In Daria's mind, it was downright selfish.

By now, Daria had gotten quite used to the "dressed up" thing, and she was now sporting a big white gown split in the skirt and laced with flowers, with a tiara like headband on her hair. It was just like the other dresses she was forced to wear. (And I do not use the word 'forced' lightly.)

"Eleanor, please. Come!" She begged one last time as Lady Gianna called her from outside. All she got from that was a glare. Well as good as a glare that you could give when one was hiding their head beneath a thick cover. She said and gave up, rushing down the stairs and meeting the lady at the front door.

_Here goes nothing. _

oOoOoOo

Eleanor listened intently as the door shut.

"Finally." She sighed. She slipped out from underneath her covers, careful not to mess anything up. She was already dressed in a nice little white dress. It draped out near her feet, and ruffled at the sleeves. Her hair was up in a messy bun, waves caressing her face. It was much better than a grand ball gown. It was completely Eleanor. She hurried near her mirror, and readjusted some of the yellow petals she fitted into her hair. When she deemed herself ready, she ran to the door of her room and put her shoes on.

She hurried down the stairs. If the maids saw her, they didn't really care, humming their lives away as they mopped or cleaned something or another. What was the drama of the upper class to them?

She slipped out of the front doors and hurried down the road. She looked behind her to see if any of the windows were lighted up. None of them were, so she was safe. She headed along the road to the poorer part of Frell, keeping in the shadows. This time of night was scary.

She jumped as she heard the hoot of an owl. The faster she got to where she was going, the better. Finally she neared the edge of the market place. She headed down to a small cottage. She saw Peter waiting for her, his peasant's garb (undoubtedly the nicest he could find) looking charming on him. She ran the distance between them. She smiled as he grabbed her hand and led her down the dark alley. In the middle was a single table with a wide cream candle lying in the middle, giving out a glowing light. The table itself was clothed with a scarlet setting. Two plates were lying with a scrumptious salad made from his father's left over produce.

"You look like a princess." He whispered into her ear, wrapping his arms around her narrow waist.

Eleanor giggled as she rested her hands lightly on his neck and laid her forehead on his. It was such a perfect moment. And to think, Daria was stuck with a pestering prince.

oOoOoOo

Daria entered the castle for the second time, now knowing what lay behind those pretty doors. And because of that…She _really _didn't want to be here. Her mother, however, was happier than a sugar craving child at a deserts table. And her cheerfulness was enough for the both of them. _Way _enough.

Daria smiled stiffly as they strutted up to the banquet hall's large table, their heels clicking loudly on the marble floor. Well actually, it seemed that the family and replaced the large table with a smaller one. One where it was much easier to talk to their guests.

_Darn!_ And Daria was planning to sit as far away as possible from Jerrold. With this replacement table, yeah, that'd be five feet.

"Gianna, and Daria, dear. Welcome. Oh, the children will be eating separately."

Scratch that. Two feet.

The grown ups got all set and done on the table. She quickly glanced to her left. Jerrold had taken the liberty to leading her out into the palace gardens. How _pleasant. _She gave a strained smile as he tried to start a conversation.

"Daria, right?"

"Yes." She answered stiffly.

"Oh. I'm—"

"The big-headed Prince?"

He flinched.

"Um…No. I'm Jerrold."

"Is there a difference?"

He did really have an answer to this. They just kept walking down the path, Daria wondering how big this garden really was.

They walked in silence for quite sometime, each stuck with their own thoughts. And one set of thoughts was not all that pleasant…

_Who does he think he is? Sure he's a prince, but that doesn't mean that he can go doing whatever he wants. Oh wait until he's king. There'll be mutiny for sure. And won't I just be at the head of that? And what now? Inviting me to a dinner, thinking that'll make up for it. Pompous brat doesn't even know what he needs to make up for. Ugh! I'd rather be hung than this poor fate of being within a five-mile radius of him. Oh, much closer than that, two inches. Maybe I'll just scoot a little away. Oh! Lookie here. He comes even closer! URGH!_

She looked at his face for the first time since they'd come outside. It was still wearing a shocked expression. As though he couldn't remember what he had done in the first place. _Well screw him, I'm not telling._

oOoOoOo

Eleanor smiled at Peter as she picked at her salad. Their eyes had not left each other's the whole time they were eating. His was a lovely brown. They were playing footsie underneath the table, smiling those smiles that only lovestruck puppies could wear. She finally put her fork down when she realized that it was scraping the bottom of the copper plate.

She realized that he had been done quite a while ago. Not that it was her fault for not noticing. His eyes were just so enchanting.

"Are you done?" he asked politely.

She smiled shyly and let him collect their plates. He walked blindly to a door on the far part of the alley. A part where the candle light did not reach. She heard the thunk of him closing the door behind him as he went to put the plates away.

She suddenly squealed. This was perfect! Just as perfect as all the other dates. But still, she couldn't help getting excited over each one. Oh how did she never meet him before. She made a mental note to thank Daria once she loosened up to it.

She heard the door open again and saw him approaching the table. He stopped next to her seat and took her hand.

"Come with me. I want to show you something."

She obediently got up and followed him. They walked out of the alley, leaving the table and candle behind. They walked up the road, Eleanor just watching him. Their fingers were intertwined as she leaned onto his strong shoulder.

oOoOoOo

There was a strangely awkward silence as Daria and Jerrold walked through the garden. The garden itself was so overflowed with the most exotic, sweet smelling flowers, and Daria was getting that nauseous sickly feeling from the smell. Of course, the nausea might have been coming from the person walking next to her, feeling perfectly at home. But either way, she desperately wanted to leave.

She looked further ahead. It seemed as though the path split into two, one heading straight onwards and the other veering right. There was a quaint rest area by the middle.

He led her to a small little bench under a tree by this area. It would have been a cute sight, shining under the full moon, if it weren't for the stuck up, good for nothing boy sitting there. Not that she held a grudge or anything. Daria was very anti-grudge.

_Stupid, stupid boy. _

"So…" he started. Trying to break the ice once more. "How, um, how do you like your new family?"

"More than I like you, that's for sure." She muttered.

That was the final straw, it seemed, for him. He sighed, frustrated. "Okay. What is your problem?" There was only so much antagonism you could get before you started to get suspicious. Smart boy.

Daria widened her eyes. Oh, she'd let him know alright.

oOoOoOo

Peter took Eleanor up a cobblestoned path. They had been walking for a while now. And it was a nice walk, not polluted by chatter. They were now climbing a small hill. It was a fair distance away from the town, and they were surrounded, now, just by grassy moors. Like they were the only two people in the world. It was a wonderful feeling. They finally reached the top of the hill. There was the smallest bench up at the top that could only comfortably fit two people. By the bench was a stone slab with a metal inscription on it. A date and a description.

"This is Yauriy Hill." He whispered behind her neck as she looked at it, sending goosebumps to pop up down her arms. "In the night, you can see every star in the sky."

And he was right, she realized as they sat themselves down on the wooden bench. There were more stars than _sky_. And it was absolutely beautiful. They looked up together at the unreachable celestial heavens above.

But Eleanor was in her own little heaven right down here on Earth.

oOoOoOo

"You want to know what _my _problem is!" Daria yelled, hopping up.

"Did you not hear what I just said?" He asked, sneering. So, _now _the real Jerrold showed up. Well, that was better. Because now, she could scream at him.

"Do you really not remember?" She yelled out. Angry and irritated.

"What did I do? The first time I saw you was at the ball!"

She ground her teeth. "You're kidding me right?"

"When did I see you before?"

"You really don't remember? You big headed, stuck up, no life _prat_!"

"What am I supposed to remember?" He asked angrily. He had never been more confused in his life. And that was saying something for a boy who'd listened to political conflicts since he could form words.

Daria was angry now. And finally, she let spill.

"That I'm the 'low-lifed' peasant you decided to dump your wine on!"

And then there was silence.


	11. Chapter 10

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**World and characters belong to Gail Carson Levine. Story belongs to Lemonlimesweetness. Writing from now on is mine.**

**AH! I was going to wait for a few more days before posting, but I got antsy. I hate getting antsy, so I updated. I can't do humor if it bit me in the butt, but I tried, so please don't hate me too much. :) That said, the writing is a bit different, so please tell me what you think about (all you old fans, and even new ones) it by revewing.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

"_That I'm the 'low-lifed' peasant you decided to dump your wine on!"_

_And then there was silence._

Jerrold's face twisted into a look of pure realization, shock, and then horror. On one hand, he was horrified that he had done that to his sweet angel. On the other hand, he was shocked that she was formerly a _peasant _of all things. He had no grudges against the peasants, mind you. Without them, his future kingdom would just be comprised of non-humans and the lords.

But to think something so beautiful did not come out of the aristocracy was astounding in his mind.

"You…"

"Yes me!" Daria raged._ "_Why do you look so shocked? Do you always forget the people you dump your alcohol on?"

Jerrold wanted to remark that his alcohol was much stronger than wine-thank you very much! - but knew that it was the wrong thing to say. He remembered her now…

… He had been sitting in the ever magnificent royal coach that was drawn by the best warm-blood horses in all of Kyrria. Of course he hadn't really cared or noticed, since it he had ridden in it since birth. He did care, however, that his mum insisted on lecturing him like she did every day. She had chosen this outing to address him on how being a generous ruler was very important. Jerrold mentally rolled his eyes. The royal family was lenient on their taxes; they set up institutions to provide money to the widows and the poor until they could get married or a job. What more did they need to do?

Then they had rolled past Daria.

She was the perfect example of the starving poor, and the Queen had jumped on the opportunity.

"_Oh look at the poor dear. Jerrold, sweet, give her a few gold KJs."_

Jerrold had certainly given her something… He blinked himself out of his memories and looked at Daria.

The girl in question was still causing a very un-ladylike commotion about what had happened. "And then you laughed! You don't even remember! I had to _remind_ you! What. Could. Have. Possibly been going through your head?!"

Ah, it was his turn to speak. It was his chance to redeem himself. Maybe Daria would come to the realization that this was all just a big misunderstanding… She had been a _peasant_!

Jerrold opened his mouth, yet nothing came out. What was his excuse? He could justify himself in his head, but Daria wouldn't appreciate it.

"Well?!"

"I-"

"You what? Is it just because I was a peasant?! We're just scum?" She leaned up, trying to match his superior height, "To me, you're the scum!"

Jerrold felt like he had just been punched in the stomach. Hard. He had never been called such before. Everyone had treated him with respect, worthy of his title and gender. Now this woman, this-this _girl_ had dared challenge him. This former peasant had not only broken the set boundaries between the classes, she had disrespected her higher-up.

Anger rose up from the pit of his belly, burning up all the butterflies and excitement he had been feeling at the beginning of this night.

"Who do you think you're talking to?" The crown prince fumed. "I am not scum! I am your superior! I am your _Prince_! I am not a charity case like you are!"

Daria's mouth fell open in shock. It was soon to wear off as an indignant look spread across her face. "I am not a charity case!"

"No! No?" Jerrold let out a scalding laugh. "You are very ignorant, my lady. If the other lords and ladies found out that you were once a peasant, Lord Alfred and Lady Gianna would be a laughing stock! You would be jeered out of town! They would not have risked something like that unless they felt sorry for you!"

He shook his head, and smirked down at her. Daria just stared back, stunned. She had never realized this before. She never knew what would happen.

"Of course, the court would just love a scandal."

Daria's eyes narrowed. "You wouldn't dare! You wouldn't dare tell them!"

Jerrold looked haughtily down at her. "I do as I please. It has been a while since there has been such a disgrace…"

Daria spluttered, insulted and furious. "I was wrong! You're worse than scum! You're-"

Two strong hands landed heavily on her shoulders, interrupting her. Jerrold calmly leaned in and positioned his head so his lips were right by her ear. His voice was cold and deadly. Daria did her best to hold in a shiver of fear as his breath tickled her neck.

"I am the crown prince. I _am_ somebody. Nobody dares insult me. They know their places. I'll spare you now because you do not yet know your place and for your…" he pulled back and looked over her face, "beauty."

Daria felt like her knees were going to give way as his hard gaze locked with her own. She had dealt with many scary and drunk men during her lifetime. She liked to think she was fearless. In some ways she was. But nobody had intimidated her or had so much power that the prince did. He could rat her out, and Eleanor would be disgraced. She couldn't do that to her friend.

She bravely met his eyes and gave him a resentful look. Even when his brown eyes seemed to dig into her own. Even when the beginning of tears pricked the edge of her vision. In a way, the tears only strengthened her resolve. Daria would not cry over this.

She licked her lips then opened her mouth to give him a piece of her mind. She was going to bring him to his knees.

"Your highness?" A timid voice shattered the tension.

Jerrold and Daria's heads snapped over to glare at the intruder. The manservant looked scared that he had interrupted a seemingly, er… romantic moment. His cheeks reddened slightly as he humbly looked down at the ground in a symbol of submission.

"Y-your highness, I was instructed to come and inform you that the meal for you and the Lady was ready for your pleasure."

Jerrold's lips pursed into a thin line. "Thank you. Dismissed."

The servant bowed and hurriedly scurried away.

The crown prince, having enough time to cool down, suddenly realized what had just happened between him and the object of his affections. He had let his insatiable temper and ego control his actions and words… again.

Jerrold's eyes widened as he slowly released her shoulders and pulled back. "My lady Daria, I'm-"

Her eyes glistened in the moonlight as she slapped his hands away. She looked impossibly outraged.

"I don't want to hear it! If you want to threaten me, fine! But don't expect me to roll over and take it!" She turned on her heel and stormed off after the servant.

"Daria! Daria!"

Jerrold sighed and trudged after her. He was a bloody imbecile.

* * *

Dinner had been tense and Jerrold had given up trying to get the girl to even look at him. Then again, it gave him time to process what had just transpired.

Daria had been a peasant. Daria had formerly been a _dirty_ peasant. Daria had formerly been a _dirty_ peasant that needed to _beg_ for money.

This was inconceivable. Jerrold had always known his place. He was the crown prince, and one day, paupers and peasants would have to bend to his will. That's what they were there for, all his tutors and his father's advisors had made sure he had known that. As a child he had actually believed they were like him. Human maybe.

He remembered saying such to a Lord Aniston a long time ago.

_Lord Aniston laughed, his lengthy beard bouncing up and down. "If they're human then we must be gods! Imagine, those mindless pigs thought as humans! I mean, they even believe in things such as _love_! Ha ha, you are amusing Prince!"_

Just remembering that embarrassing moment made Jerrold's cheeks feel hot.

"How come we haven't seen her before?"

Jerrold looked at his father. They were all standing in the foyer, having said their cordial good-byes to Lady Gianna and Daria.

"Hmm, My King?" The Queen asked.

"Why haven't we seen that child before? She's very beautiful, I don't believe they would have hidden her away." The King stroked his trimmed beard.

The Queen gave a slight smile. "Oh, My King, she was with her uncle and aunt in Ayortha. The poor man had married a barren woman, and Lord Alfred took pity on the man, letting them raise her until she was at marrying age."

The King looked placated. "Ah. How very nice of them. Slightly stupid but nice. Whoever she is married off to will have a nice dowry." He began to take his leave, turning away.

The Queen followed him up the stairs. "Yes, My King."

Jerrold stared at the massive door. He wasn't pleased over the fact that she might get married off to a total stranger, but he understood. Even though his parents would allow him to have his fling with her now, he knew that in a year or so he would have to marry someone that they deemed necessary for politics.

He sighed and began to trudge upstairs to prepare for bed.

_I know we're the royal family and all, but why do we have to have so many stairs?_ _Ugh!_

A small missile came hurtling towards him when he finally crawled up the top stair. He braced himself right as it collided with his legs and stomach.

"Oof! Maxus, what are you eating now-a-days?"

Jerrold looked down to see a small child with his same tawny, curly hair looking up at him.

"I missed you," the three-year-old gurgled happily.

"I've only been gone an hour!" He exclaimed as he hauled his younger brother up into his arms.

Another voice spoke up, smooth and silky. Jerrold looked up to see his fifteen year old brother. His black hair was combed to the side, accentuating his black eyes.

"Yet I was gone for a week on a stupid 'learning' excursion and he all he can talk about is you."

Jerrold grinned. "Brother! Good to see you intact. I'm surprised the ladies didn't tear you to pieces."

"Ah, I haven't got the sixteen years of experience that you have with those wenches, but I find that I _like _them going ape over me." Jackson purred happily and winked.

Jerrold rolled his eyes and made a face at Max. He giggled and clapped his hands over his mouth.

"So I heard you had dinner with Eleanor's sister?"

Jerrold glanced at his brother. "What is it to you?" He recognized that tone in Jack's voice. He was a womanizer to the core.

"Oh nothing… Don't give me that look brother. I much prefer Eleanor than that frail girl."

"So you saw her?"

Jack nodded. "When I came in."

Jerrold made another face at fidgeting Max. "Remember my temper?"

"What temper, Jerry?" Max asked.

"Who can forget?" Jack rolled his eyes that had been defined as 'simply breath-taking' by a very whiny girl that morning.

"Yes, she hates me now."

Jack snickered and turned away. "Too bad, she was gorgeous," he purred over his shoulder.

Jerrold narrowed his eyes at his brother's receding back. _He better not get any ideas._

Max tugged at one of his brother's curls. "Jerry?" He stared up innocently with those cute hazel orbs of his own.

"Yes, Maxus?"

"I still love you… does that count?"


	12. Chapter 11

**Okay, well the second chapter written by yours truely. And since, I am aching to know what you guys think, I'm not going to write another chapter until I reach five reviews. Ain't to much to ask for is it? I only need two more. I'd really appreciate it, thanks. :)**

**Thanks goes out to: Fantasy's forever, lemonlimesweetness, nwyd, Princess Emarelda, and swiftwings13 for putting this on alert; to nwyd, Princess Emarelda, and Roawen for favoriting it; and to swiftwings13 and lemonlimesweetness for reviewing. You guys rock.**

**Oh and question for anyone and everyone: What color are Daria's eyes?**

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Three months passed by as Daria learned the ins and outs of being a Lady. It was pure and utter torture. The tutor her new 'parents' had hired was a witch of a woman with a high and annoying voice.

"Head straight, Daria!"

"You're not doing it right, Daria!"

"Don't make me pull out my switch!"

Oh, how Daria hated the switch. It was a long, thin stick that stung wildly even through Daria's weighty dresses. She hated the dresses, she hated learning all of those stupid rules and she hated the fake attitudes of everyone in the court. No one could be honest. Only Eleanor and the nice accommodations made this worthwhile.

She hardly saw Eleanor anymore. Ever since she had met Peter, she had dedicated her nights to sneaking out to see him. That would be okay, but Daria's days were filled with that horrible woman that was dedicated to give the poor girl as many bruises as possible. So they never had time to just talk or spend time together anymore.

It was saddening.

Daria sighed as she looked herself over in the mirror. Her bruises had taken over her back and waist but there were only a few on her shoulders and arms. She could hide those.

"Daria? Daria?" Eleanor's voice was muffled by the closed door.

"Just a minute!" Daria slipped on a fairly plain dress. It was a little heavy, but not too much so.

She rushed to the door. She was excited to see Eleanor and today was her day off. Daria threw the door open and greeted her adoptive sister with a big grin.

"Eleanor!"

The girl smiled coyly. "How are you today Daria?"

"Great! It's my day off."

Eleanor looked disappointed. Daria's face fell. Was it something she said?

"Is something wrong?" Daria asked.

Eleanor was unable to meet her friend's eyes. "Well, yeah. My father has the day off as well and he wanted to take me out since he always is away."

Daria looked away and she didn't know what to say. Just a few seconds ago, she was hopeful that she might be able to actually have time with her only friend. But she did not want to separate Eleanor from her father. She knew what it was like to live without a father.

"… Well we can see each other tonight, right?"

"I'm going with Peter."

Daria felt even lower. Her day wasn't turning out as she expected. "Again?"

Eleanor looked up sharply. "We're courting and that's the only time I get to see him." Her voice rose in pitch slightly. Daria fought the urge to get angry in front of her friend.

"Oh… Okay… Have fun with your father."

"Thanks… Bye."

"Bye," she said curtly.

Daria closed the door before Eleanor had even left and sank down to the floor. Yes, she was grateful to be in a wonderful place like this. She was grateful that she wasn't doing the hard work that she had been accustomed to at the inn. Yet, there was no point in being here if Eleanor was not.

She fingered the carpet and sighed at herself. Emma would have loved it here and wouldn't have cared if all the royals had so many rules and were vindictive. Who cared if Lady Gianna was a little stuck up and Lord Alfred a virtual recluse? Who cared if they didn't love each other like Daria thought they should? Who cared if she was going through a little pain?

It was better than living on the streets and hungry.

Daria stood up, determined to enjoy this. Let Eleanor have her fun. Life was short. She might as well make the best of it. She walked over to her closet and chose a nice electric blue dress that would attract less attention than her other ones. At best, she would look like the daughter of a well-off shopkeeper or merchant. She pulled on a cloak, fussed a little with her hair and set out.

Lady Gianna was in the foyer and she stopped Daria. "Why, Daughter, where are you going?" She simpered.

Daria felt weird whenever the elder woman used the word daughter in reference to her. It was strange. She didn't realize that Lady Gianna was just overjoyed to have this beautiful girl as her daughter and enjoyed reminding herself of that fact.

"My lady," she curtsied, "I was going to the shops to look around, since it is my time off from my lessons."

Lady Gianna's face lit up. Daria liked to shop! Eleanor despised it and would make a fuss. Oh, she loved this child. "Well, how about I go with you?" She stopped and her face fell. "Oh, I forgot, I have a meeting with Lady Carla. Here, then, take some KJs with you. My treat."

Daria was about to protest, but the Lady had already pulled out her purse and handed the coins to her.

"I insist."

Daria looked down at the money in her hands. At the inn it would take her months to earn this much! She curtsied again, grateful.

"Thank you, my lady. This is a very generous gift."

The elder woman waved it off. "It's nothing." Daria suspected it was to her, but she really appreciated it.

Daria smiled and headed out.

It was a nice day outside. It was sunny but a cool breeze reminded the townspeople that fall was soon in coming. Daria was grateful for her cloak as she ambled down the lanes. Vendors peddled their wares and children ran in the streets. Horses and carriages plodded by while lovers giggled in their hiding spots. Fathers bartered while mothers caught up with their gossip. Colored birds that spoke in elvish and gnome were chattering on their high pedestals. Posters advertised the royal zoo while street performers breathed fire and old women sold love potions.

In the midst of it all, Daria took a deep breath and grinned. She loved it. It was real. It wasn't perfumed and there were no fronts to put up. Everyone simply wanted to live and have a good time.

She smiled as she passed by a familiar face.

"Hullo Jeremy!"

The man in question stopped what he was doing then grinned. "Daria!"

Everything was perfect.

Everything was horrible.

Jerrold was in a foul mood. His mother had insisted on giving him a lecture that lasted more than four hours. It wasn't even pertinent. It was about how gnomes, ogres, sprites, fairies, elves, and the like were inferior simply because they were not human. Jerrold really did not care less whether someone had green skin or pink. If they were peaceful, why try to belittle them?

The Queen was high and mighty and yet she couldn't dress herself.

He had barely escaped before exploding in anger. His mood was only soured when he realized where he had run off to. The markets. He hated this place. It was crawling with dirty peasants and ugly beggars. It was loud and nosy and children kept on getting underfoot.

Jerrold thanked the heavens that he was dressed in some simple riding clothes or else everyone would be all over him for money. Those filthy people couldn't get it themselves. He kept his head down as he navigated the crowds to keep from being recognized. He didn't see the girl he ran into until it was too late.

Daria and Jeremy chatted amiably about everything and anything for a bit. He was happy that Daria was enjoying her new life and Daria was glad that his wife had gotten over her brief sickness.

"So, what are you doing back here?" Jeremy asked kindly. "Do you have any special plans?"

Daria shook her head. "No, not really..." An idea hit her. She could go see if she could get her necklace fixed. If she didn't have enough money, she could just save up with an idea of how much she needed.

"Actually, yes I do. Do you know of any jewelers around here?"

Jeremy nodded, happy to help. "Yes. Just go down this street until you pass the bakery, take a right then your first left, and you'll be right in front of the shop. The main jeweler is an elf who has connections to the dwarf miners in the north. It's a very good business."

Daria nodded. She had never seen an elf before. Frell was just bursting with such beautiful and colorful culture.

"Thank you, Jeremy. Well, I must be going. I don't want to keep you away any longer than I have to."

He nodded then picked up an apple. "Here, for old time's sake."

Daria grinned, took the offered apple and gave the man a KJ for his trouble. The man ducked back into his shop and Daria moved to walk off.

Something hit her from the back and Daria stumbled, falling to a knee. She cursed, nursing her wounded joint.

"My lady, I'm so sorry!"

Daria froze. She recognized that voice. She slowly stood up and stiffly turned around.

"Prince Jerrold."

He looked down at her and his eyes widened. "Daria!"

They both stood there for a few seconds. She glared at his bewildered face. A loud crash in the distance broke their silence and Jerrold ripped his eyes from hers.

"Are you okay?" He asked, remembering his manners. "Did I hurt you? I'm so sorry."

She brushed herself off, too angry to say anything but a, "No." The stupid prince probably wasn't sorry. Daria turned to walk away but Jerrold caught her arm.

He couldn't let her go away. For some odd reason he hadn't stopped thinking about her and he wanted to apologize. His temper was no excuse.

Daria looked back with fire in her eyes. "Let go of me!" She hissed. He was pressing on a bruise and it was hurting like mad. She refused to let him see her pain.

He softened his grip but still didn't let do. "My lady Daria, I just want to-"

"Don't touch me, you pig!" She gruffly pulled her arm out of his hold and began to storm away.

Jerrold refused to get angry. He just wanted to make things right. He hurried to catch up with her.

"My lady…"

"Go away!" She refused to look at him.

"Look at me, Daria."

"What's the polite way of saying that?" She was affronted that he would dare talk to her like that after he had threatened her.

"I just wanted to apologize from the bottom of my heart. I was being rude and I let my temper get the best of me."

Daria brushed him off, turning a corner.

"I mean it. I was being a-"

"A downright imbecile? A jerk? Horrible? Rude?" Daria offered.

Jerrold jumped over an unseen obstacle. "All that and more… Please forgive me."

Daria stopped to look at him. His face held no signs of deceit or malice. He actually looked slightly desperate for her approval, which she didn't understand why. She took a breath and pinched the bridge of her nose. Her mom would have been all over her to forgive him. She had taught the benefits of forgiveness early on.

Daria could never go against her mother.

"… Alright. But you are not off the hook, Prince. One foul word from you and I am never going to even look at you again."

Jerrold nodded, happy. He didn't understand why he so wanted her approval, considering her up-bringing. If anything, _she_ should be searching for _his_ approval. That was the way it had always been with him and women. This time though, he didn't mind.

He grinned and gave a dramatic and low bow. "May I accompany you to your destination, m' lady?"

Daria rolled her eyes. She was able to hold a grudge for a long time, but decided to let it go. "Yes you may."

His smile grew wider as he offered his arm. Daria shook her head.

"I don't need to be led, I can walk myself."

Jerrold shrugged and began to walk beside her. Maybe this day wouldn't be so bad after all.


	13. Chapter 12

**Hello all. As Fantasy's forever kindly reminded me, this story has reached over five reviews for the last chapter and I have failed to update. Actually (not to use this as an excuse) I did update, but the chapter was simply horrible and Lemonlimesweetness told me as much. So I simply deleted it and forgot to update again. So I apologize and I will not set a minimum of reviews anymore in exchange for updates. That's simply unfair.**

**Thanks goes to apocalyptichysteria, BubblingB, crossMyheartHope2Spy, echotheinferno, LaLa De Dum, andSockmoneytastic for putting this on alert; Lala De Dum, echotheinferno for putting this story on their favorites and to Fantasy's forever, echotheinferno, Aleciaa, J, Sockmonkeytastic, and Lemonlimesweetness for reviewing. Oh and special thanks goes to bellathedisenchanted who insisted on reviewing even when her (or his) computer wouldn't cooperate and to anyone I forgot to mention.**

**Disclaimer: World and characters belong to Gail Carson Levine, Plot and story belong to Lemonlimesweetness.**

* * *

Daria greedily soaked up the sun at her back as it soothed her aching muscles. She had been distracted from her pain with all the sights and smells that had been hidden from her during her time at Eleanor's house. For three months she had not been allowed to go out. There was always something her tutor insisted that Daria just completely messed up.

Her hair was wrong, her choices of dresses were horrible, and apparently her dancing looked like a cow with one leg attempting to crawl across the dance floor.

The only reason Daria had been allowed to have a free day was because the awful woman's daughter unexpectedly went into labor last night. Daria realized with a jolt that her mom had always talked about sending Emma off to be a midwife. If Emma was alive today, she might have been helping to deliver a baby right at this moment.

Tears sprung to Daria's eyes. Not a day had gone by without a thought of her family. Sometimes she just thought of them in passing. But sometimes she cried so hard, her insides ached.

She didn't want Jerrold to glance over and see the lone tear that had slipped past her rapidly blinking eyes. She despised the thought of him seeing her vulnerable. So she nonchalantly stopped to watch a horse being paraded inside a circle of people. But as soon as she had finally gathered her emotions and her eyes cleared, the sight that greeted her made her eyes practically bulge out of her head.

It wasn't a horse! It was a young man's torso on top of a horse's body.

"By the gods…" she whispered in amazement.

"My lady Daria?" Jerrold had caught up with her. "Oh, not another centaur. The poor things are being captured faster than people build stables to hold them."

Is that what that creature was called? A centaur? It looked too regal to have a rope tied around its neck as a man led it around for display. Even despite people poking at it and jeering, it kept up its air of superiority and watched the proceedings with a look of distaste.

"Centaur for sale!" Its herder called out. "Centaur for sale! Get one of these beasts while you still can!"

Daria pushed ahead, her gaze locked on the strange being. She had heard stories of these things. But she had never seen one in person. She stopped until she was right at the invisible barrier of the circle and watched in fascination. She vaguely noticed Jerrold joining her.

The centaur's anatomy seemed so natural; she wondered why everyone was not built like him.

"My father-I mean, the King is banning the sale of these creatures. People think them dumb because they don't speak much, but his Royal Highness does not think it's a coincidence all of their owners are being stomped to death. I don't think it is either…"

They were selling this beauty? What a shame. Daria would give anything just to see the centaur running free in a meadow. His rippling muscles suggested he was fast and powerful.

"What's his name?" She called out as the centaur and his handler was passing by.

The dirty man stopped. His face -which was almost black from the sun and years worth of dirt- twisted in confusion. "Eh?"

"I want to know his name," Daria insisted.

The centaur, who had been staring blankly over the crowd, slowly looked down to her. Their gazes met and Daria's heart sped up. His once blank eyes showed a hint of surprise. It towered over Daria and she felt more intimidated than she had ever been in her whole life.

"'Ell, 'en you get him, you can name 'im whatever you want."

"But they speak right? They name each other. I want to know his name."

The herder glared and opened his mouth to curse at her, but Jerrold intervened.

"The lady wants to know the centaur's name. I don't think it's too hard to provide that information. Is it?" He said in an authoritative tone that oozed power and rank. The grubby man holding the centaur's rope shrunk back at his tone.

Even Daria had to break gazes with the beast to glance at Jerrold in surprise. She had only seen the petty, spoiled side of him. She had never seen this side that screamed that he was destined to be King.

"T-to be 'onest, si-ah, I don't rightly know."

Daria tore her gaze from Jerrold to look at the grubby man in disappointment. She knew that it was rare for centaurs to talk to humans and that she would probably never get the creature's name.

"Oh," she said, looking elsewhere. "All right then."

"Carry on," Jerrold commanded after a few awkward moments in which the chastised man waited to see if Daria wanted anything else.

The dirty man nodded curtly and clicked his tongue for the centaur to follow him. Daria was about to turn away until she felt the softest of warm breezes on the top of her head.

"It's Pholus…" A gentle and wise sounding voice whispered.

The young girl's head snapped up but the centaur was already a good few paces away. Daria turned to look at Jerrold to see if he had heard it too, and his stunned look was answer enough. Excitement coursed through her and she marveled at the privilege of hearing a centaur speak.

Jerrold's brown eyes met Daria's light blue ones. His lips moved without sound as he fought to find words.

"D-did… Did you hear that?" He asked.

She nodded and Jerrold grinned. He looked at the centaur one last time before looking back at her.

"Amazing."

It truly was.

* * *

The two resumed their walk, lost in their own joys of having the privilege to not only hear a centaur's voice but to know his name.

"I'm glad we're forbidding the sale of those creatures," the prince said after a while.

Daria nodded a contented smile still on her lips. "They will be freed…"

Jerrold frowned. "Well not all of them."

Daria stopped in her tracks and looked at the prince. "What?"

He stopped as well and turned to look at her. "They will not all be free. Only the ones who were going to be sold after the law begins to take effect will technically be 'freed' by not being sold."

Daria was indignant and confused at the same time. What was the point of the law if it did not free those wonderful animals? They all deserved to be freed.

"And why isn't the law freeing the ones that were already sold?" She asked Jerrold hotly.

His eyes narrowed at the anger in her voice. "Because the people who have them rightfully bought them. They own them."

Her eyes narrowed as well. "Nobody rightfully buys a life. Those animals are-" she fought for words that would describe the majesty and astuteness she had seen in Pholus' eyes.

"They are what?" Jerrold glared.

"They are amazing, beautiful, intelligent creatures!" She finally spat out. "They do not deserve to be paraded around like cattle, being spit on. You yourself said they stomped people to death. They obviously resent being caged."

Jerrold looked incredulously at her. "What animal likes being caged? Anyway, centaurs have it better than most animals. They aren't caged, they're pets."

Daria was getting angrier and angrier as she looked at the pompous prince. He didn't understand anything.

"Being a pet and being caged is the same thing!"

"No it's not. What do you know?"

Daria thought of how Lady Gianna only took Daria in because she was pretty. She was practically a pet herself that had to be trained to behave. She was whipped just like a disobedient puppy.

"I know plenty." She seethed. She didn't know if she was angrier at Jerrold or at her situation.

"Well then you know that people will not give up their precious pets just because the King demands them too. The Kingdom cannot just take away people's possessions just because you demand it. What's next? We take away their parrots and horses? Take away their only form of transportation?" The prince's voice was growing louder but the pair did not care.

"Centaurs are not parrots or horses! They have intelligence!" Daria leaned in and hissed.

"So. Do. All. Animals." He tried in vain to get his point across. "How do you think parrots learn all those languages? And have you ever spent time with a horse? They are smarter than most humans! The same with all animals, even dogs! I think you just care because the centaur was handsome."

Daria fought down a blush. She had noticed Pholus' lovely jaw line, but that was not why she was fighting with the prince now. "I do not! And if all animals are smart, then you and your father should abolish the owning of all pets!"

Jerrold angrily ran a hand through his hair. "You're a fool who has no idea how politics work!"

"And you're a coward who has no regard for life!"

"If I had no regard for life, you would be beheaded for saying that!" He roared.

"Do it," Daria whispered resentfully. "You royals think you can do anything you want, so go ahead. I dare you."

Jerrold seemed to be stunned into silence and the two glared at each other until Daria left in a huff. Forget the jeweler, she was heading home.

Only the bystanders who were watching closely heard Jerrold's last whisper, before he too, left.

"Is that what you think of me?"

* * *

**Greek Mythology time! In Greek Mythology Pholus was a centaur and a friend of Herakles that was one of the only wise and 'civilized' centaurs other than Chiron. Centaurs are described as wild and dangerous except of those two. I thought it fitting to name this Pholus that.**

**More information here (just get rid of the spaces):**

**http:// en. wikipedia. org/ wiki/ Pholus_ (mythology)**

**Hope you guys enjoyed!**

J: I will not abandon this story no matter how small the amout of people that read this, and I'm glad I could provide you with a pairing you like. Thanks for the review.

Aleciaa: I'm glad it's funny! I'm not too good with humor I don't think, so if there are any suggestions for me (from anyone), I will gladly take them into consideration. Thanks for the review.


	14. Chapter 13

This is a quickie upload and oh, I had so many things I wanted to say. Cliff notes:

-Thank you to everyone who read, reviewed, fav'ed and alerted this fic. I really, really appreciate it more than I can express.

-I apologize to lemonlimesweetness and all my readers for taking so long, but with –insert many excuses here- I just couldn't hack it. And I had no idea where to go after the last chapter so I took some time to really hash out the characters in my mind.

-Even though I like to write, I'm pretty bad at articulating what I really want to say and I tend to stick my foot in my mouth that way. Lemonlimesweetness does give me pointers, but she has been nothing but kind and patient to me. If I say something like: "I think this is terrible and she told me so" it was really me trying to say: "AH! Lemonlimesweetness pointed out something that was flawed in my writing. Since my inner perfectionist is a major Drama Queen, I'm going to go and cry after I print it out and burn it because it was a HORRIBLE EYESORE! *sob*" Doesn't mean that she was being mean or even very harsh, because she's nothing but sweet with me (no pun intended). I'm just harsh on myself. Again, I apologize.

-Quickly written, quickly posted, badly unedited.

-Since the long delay, the style is very different and the situation might be out of the blue/ the characters might be OOC. If that's the case, don't be afraid to let me know. I'd love the input and will try to fix it to be best of my ability.

As always, enjoy!

* * *

"Is that what you think of me?" Daria hissed in a low voice.

"Well-I…" Eleanor stuttered, flustered by Daria's simmering anger.

Daria slowly shook her head. This was all absurd.

In reality, she and Eleanor had been fighting the past few weeks. At first Daria had viewed these quarrels as petty arguments, comparable to the silly, sisterly fights she and Emma used to have. Nobody really pulled any punches or bared their teeth in those situations so Daria had not allowed herself the full bloom of anger. Her words were like the blunt tips of fencing sabers. Harmless.

Despite all this, Eleanor seemed to take all of Daria's offhand comments to heart. It confused Daria to no end and she spent a few good nights awake pondering why. Was it because Eleanor was not used to quarreling with siblings? Did Eleanor just have that kind of personality to take things out of proportion?

It took a trip to the kitchens before dawn and a cold cup of water for Daria to realize the answer. The reason Eleanor thought Daria was trying to insult her was because _Eleanor_ was trying to insult _Daria_.

That's when Daria allowed herself to become angry. She hadn't done anything at all. Eleanor was the one picking the fights. So Daria steeled herself and waited.

She did not have to wait. That morning Eleanor had strolled into the room and began inspecting Daria's new possessions haughtily. Lady Gianna had convinced Lord Alfred- who was actually a bit of a pinchpenny- that poor Daria needed a few "necessities." These necessities turned out to be a new wardrobe, a vanity and dresser, combs, perfumes, jewelry and other ins-and-outs that Daria appreciated but could do without. But she knew that Lord Alfred would rather spend money than deal with tantrums from any of the women of his household and that Lady Gianna really loved going shopping with her daughters, so she accepted everything graciously. Anyways, Daria only had about three or four dresses before and that included the pink monstrosity she wore to that accursed ball. A new wardrobe had been nice.

The only one that seemed to mind the whole affair was Eleanor.

"You're stealing my parents away from me and now you're using them for their money." Eleanor angrily accused after she had finished glaring at Daria's new possessions.

The girl accused started and the textbook she had been studying almost flew out of her lap. "What?"

Eleanor whirled, her black hair flying through the air. "You heard me! You peasant scum. I can't believe I let you into this house. I wouldn't be surprised if you didn't like Peter only because you are jealous of my relationship with him!"

The blood rushed to Daria's face in fury. Her anger was more subtle than would be expected though, and her words came out deceptively calm. "Why is everything about Peter? I told you a few times that I didn't like him and how we never spend time together anymore and now all you do is accuse me of these-these…" She searched for the word in vain.

"These what? Truths?" Eleanor snarled.

"These slanderous lies. I didn't even ask to come and live with you. _You_ asked your parents without my knowledge, because you probably thought that having me around would be fun. I have done nothing. It's also not my fault that your mother enjoys shopping with me. You and she have told me many times how much you abhorred the activity. Now all of a sudden you care?" Daria gritted her teeth together in irritation. She did not make it a habit of talking that much when she was angry, but Eleanor was being… idiotic and… and… _very_ unreasonable.

"I took you in because I felt sorry for you and I thought we could spend time together as friends. But you don't like spending time with me."

Daria's eyes narrowed and she wondered if strangling Eleanor was against the law. "You are a horrible liar."

"And you're a horrible friend."

"Is that what you think of me?"

At some point in this conversation Daria had gotten off her bed and now she stalked over to where Eleanor was standing, her eyes aflame and her cheeks red. She stood tall and proud, almost mimicking the posturing she had seen fighting stray dogs and cats do before.

"Well-I…" Eleanor was clearly intimidated by Daria's physical presence. No one had ever had the gall to get up in the noble's face before.

"I have done nothing but try and facilitate a peaceful and friendly environment between me and you and your family." Daria was being terribly formal. All those grammar and language lessons seemed to be affecting the way she spoke when she was emotional, apparently. "But you have refused to reciprocate my friendship. Yes, I have been harsh about Peter, but I forgot that your precious noble sensibilities are not used to _peasants_ telling you what they think. But like it or not, by law, we are_ equals_ now and that means I can tell you whatever the hell I want." Oh, now there was her normal way of speaking.

Eleanor sneered, but her eyes had lost their steely edge.

"Now," Daria continued, "if you would please get out of my room before I use what I learned on the streets and 'rip you a new one.'"

Eleanor turned quickly, her hair now whipping her adopted sister in the face. "This isn't over," she stamped her foot and shrieked before hastily escaping.

Once the retreating girl had slammed the door on the way out, Daria shrunk to the floor. Her hands were shaking and she sighed. Was it possible to be angry and sad at the same time?

Eleanor wasn't a bad person. A bit spoiled, yes. Naive, yes. Petty, yes. But Eleanor had been nice and kind before. She hadn't minded that Daria was common. When she had pointed that out, it had stung fiercely.

Daria wondered if this was her fault. No of course not, this whole thing was just… ridiculous. She slowly lifted herself up. They were children. Silly. Soon they would forget this whole situation and they would make up, Daria was sure of it. It was a stupid fight anyway. They were both just being unreasonable and that would soon pass.

It _had_ to.

* * *

*Actually, fencing swords (they used to be sabers in medieval times) can hurt someone if you tried hard enough. But compared to sharp swords, I think they can be considered kind of harmless.

*Went on an online thesaurus and found the word "pinchpenny" and liked it far better than "tightwad". :)

I was going to add more but if I did that it probably would take even longer to post a new chapter. Hopefully more to come sooner!


	15. Chapter 14

Two chapters in two days? *Le gasp* I didn't want to stop writing this one either, so I know that is a good sign. I actually know where I want to go with this, and how so I'm far more excited and motivated now. Who knows? Maybe I'll make cranking these out a habit. But again, this means hardly any time to edit, so I apologize.

Thanks to lemonlimesweetness for reviewing chapter 13. You're a darling and I'll respond to it shortly. Hope you like this one too. :)

Thanks also goes to AliceNadeshiko, Angelove07, bellathedisenchanted, BlistersOnMyFingers, Cutiecutiecool, edahcsmac, illyria48 and Shaela the Dancer for putting this on alert. To CRAZYKID2655 (I like putting your name in caps), bellathedisenchanted, and Shaela the Dancer for putting this in their faves. And lastly to lemonlimesweetness, bellathedisenchanted, echotheinferno, angelove07, Zanna-Banna (awesome name btw), BlistersOnMyFingers and ba11ergrl77 (holla!) for reviewing chapter 12. All you guys are awesome. I apologize if I missed anyone. My eyes aren't what they used to be. :)

* * *

Suffice it to say, after a few agonizingly long days, it didn't. Daria slipped into a horrible mood. Not only did she regret some of the things she said, she regretted that she had isolated herself from her only true friend. It was then that she realized that… that she really did not have any real friends. Without Eleanor, Daria had no one.

It broke her heart.

So that's how she ended up sitting on her feet in the middle of the dancing floor in the manor's ballroom with her skirts as the only protection from the cold. They splayed out around her, forming a barrier of silk. Daria forlornly rubbed at the expensive sea green material. It was soft and happily swam through her fingers. She closed her eyes.

Months had passed. _Months_ and her heart still ached for the companionship of her family. Losing her father was terribly difficult, but the pain had been lessened by the ignorance of childhood. It was not as hard to get used to his loss. Losing her mother and sister and her whole way of life was still something she could not get used to. She could still smell her mother's perfume and feel her sister's warmth when they huddled together on cold nights. She could hear her mother scold her and her sister laugh at a crude joke. She could imagine what they'd say to her right now and how they would always be in her heart and memories.

That still didn't wipe away the crippling pain in her heart. No matter how much Daria resolved to live to the fullest there were still moments like this. Moments of silence. Of loneliness. Then, no matter the distractions of before, the absolute _loss _would render her unable to breathe.

Usually, when the tears threatened to fall like this, Daria would lock herself in her room. But now the red paint was an eyesore and despite its sheer size, the room seemed to steadily close in on her. Woozy, Daria had stumbled her way down into the biggest room in the house before collapsing on the floor. She hiccuped from restraining a sob.

_I'm sorry, Mother. Emma. I'm trying to overcome this. It's just so hard._

"Lady Daria!" A shrill voice shrieked in a voice that could send demons themselves running back to Hell. "What in dear Heaven's name are you doing on the floor? That is most unfitting for a Lady! You should know better!"

Daria deflated even more and steeled herself for the inevitable smack of the switch on her back. Footsteps came closer as her manners Mistress stomped over.

"I cannot believe that after all these months, you are still acting like a vagabond! Have you learned nothing?"

"Have you ever lost anyone, Mistress?" Daria asked after a long pause.

Maybe it was the way Daria said it. Her voice was shaky and feeble. Never before had she used such a tone with her tutor. Usually she used some kind of sarcasm or even just the monotone of plain respect, but she had never appeared weak or pleading before. Maybe it was the fact that Daria addressed her Mistress directly and ignored a question. Maybe it was just the fact that Daria was asking something about the Mistress's personal life.

But when Daria looked over her shoulder, she saw the older woman frozen in time. The infamous switch was raised high above the woman's head and her mouth was open in a sneer. Yet no sound or retribution came.

For the first time, Daria truly studied her manners Mistress. Lady Gianna had once mentioned in passing that the woman was half Ayorthan, half Kyrrian. At the time, Daria had not paid any heed because about eighty percent of what her adopted mother said was exaggerated gossip. Looking at the Mistress now, it seemed plausible. The Mistress's skin was a shade darker than normal and her searching brown eyes certainly looked the part. Her hair was pulled up too tightly in its usual bun for Daria to correctly judge if it was black or brown but she assumed that it was black.

Daria turned by the waist now and looked at those brown orbs. "Have you?" She attempted to swallow the lump in her throat. "I know it's none of my business and it's a very improper question, but I… I… I don't have anyone to talk to and ask. Is it okay to miss the people you've lost so much that it tears you up inside? Is it… healthy? I've lost so many people and it kills me to think that this feeling will continue for the rest of my life."

The older woman was at a loss for words. She worked her jaw in a few attempts to speak, but nothing came. The paper thin wrinkles next to her eyes became more pronounced as she looked at the wood floor in consternation. Finally, the woman set her jaw and looked Daria straight in the eye.

"You're right. That's a completely inappropriate question."

Daria dropped her gaze, defeated. She imagined that maybe if she wished hard enough, the floor would take pity on her and swallow her whole.

"That was completely inappropriate question to ask an equal or superior. But since I am just your tutor, I feel obliged to answer. Keep in mind, that I am still your elder and will not indulge your lapses in manners that often."

Hope flooded Daria and she stared at her Mistress in awe. "Truly?"

The Mistress gave a thin smile. It surprised Daria. She had never seen the woman even look anything other than mean or judgmental.

"Truly." She extended a wrinkled hand. "If you will allow me to escort you to the kitchens, we can converse in there. It's much more comfortable."

Daria nodded and accepted the help. It suddenly occurred to her that she did not even know her manners Mistress's name. She didn't know the names of anybody who worked in the manor. Even her maid's name was unbeknownst to her. She was shocked at this great oversight. What kind of person was she that ignored a whole house filled with people?

"Mistress?" She asked timidly as they made the pilgrimage across the house to the kitchens.

"Yes, Lady Daria?"

"What-" Daria flushed in embarrassment and self-directed anger. "What is your name?"

The Mistress stopped, seemingly floored once more. "Florence. My name is Florence."

"Thank you, Mistress Florence."

Florence started her walk once again without answering back.

The head cook's name was William Howl, but asked that Daria call him Billy. His wife was a silent beauty by the name of Serafina Howl. She was a thin and tall waif of a woman while her husband was round and stocky. His short hair was dark and his complexion even more so. Serafina's was as white as snow with her only real color coming from her shock of orange-yellow hair. They were as different as night and day and it boggled Daria's mind that she had not taken the time to meet them sooner. Everything about their interactions with each other was so interesting. The teenager was taken by them instantly.

Apparently, they were very good friends with Florence as well. Daria felt like she had suddenly stumbled into a new life. On second thought, she had, and maybe her bewilderment at the sudden pace of events was justified.

Billy escorted Daria and her Manners tutor to a secluded table in the corner. The only seats were stacks of burlap bags filled with potatoes while the table was rotting and filled with leftover potato peels. The cook apologized so profusely that Daria had to virtually command him to stop. She had seen worse and the whole warm, bustling atmosphere of the kitchens almost made Daria feel at home. Safe. She sat down across from her Mistress who had been uncharacteristically quiet.

"It's the only private place, you see."

"I _understand_ Billy. Thank. You."

Serafina soon followed with a plate of sweets and tea. She poured and prepared the tea just how each woman liked it and left in silence.

Awkwardly, Daria took a sip from her cup. She was not used to talking with the lady in front of her. It seemed that Florence was not used to having a conversation with her pupil either. They sat tense on their makeshift chairs, stirring their tea and avoiding the others' eyes. Daria had just gotten to the point where she was just going to apologize for her impertinence and suggest going back to her studies when Florence spoke.

The woman kept her eyes on the table but spoke clearly and deliberately.

"I lost my daughter twenty years ago. She was a bit older than you and had fallen in with the wrong crowd. After a while, she decided to leave the man who had dragged her into that life, but he refused to let her leave. And then…" Florence took a long breath before taking an equally long drink of tea. "Then they both got into an accident." Now she leveled her gaze with Daria's. If her voice wavered before, it did not now. "It's perfectly normal to be destroyed by losing a loved one. It doesn't have to be losing them through death; you can lose a loved one through a number of other situations as well.

"The main thing you have to realize is that it is not your fault. People change, situations change, life changes. Change and grief are natural occurrences. It's how you handle this grief that can determine if it's healthy or not."

Daria blinked back a fresh wave of tears and nodded. "I don't think I'm handling it too well. I've been very depressed lately."

The Mistress seemed to ponder a new thought before speaking again. "Depression is a very dark foe. It can be beaten if you are willing."

"I am."

"Then…" Another deep breath. "Then I shall help you if you will accept it."

Daria felt gratitude fill a part of the recess in her chest. "I… I don't know how to repay you for such kindness."

"You can start by actually studying your curriculum for once."

Daria grinned sheepishly. Busted.

* * *

This chapter is dedicated to my wonderful Tia (Auntie) Olga. I wish I remembered Angelica as clearly as everyone else. I don't have words to describe how strong and wonderful you are.

Anonymous Reviews from chapter 12 (13):

ba11ergrl77: I'm trying! :] Heh, the problem was that me and lemonlimesweetness really didn't know how the plot was going to develop other than a few feelings and things we wanted to see. So I had to take a break to think about what direction I wanted to take this. Hope I don't disappoint! Thanks for the review! (I want to know what happens too. ;) )

Zanna-Banna: Hey! I'm so very glad you think so. Thanks for the review!

echotheinferno: Hee hee, of course I had to mention you. Your dedication to this story is awesome. Oh man, I love Pholus too, so don't worry. If I can get him in there, I will. Hah, well it's said that from conflict comes comedy, which is so true, so we shall have as much conflict as I can stand to write... as soon as Jerrold shows up again which he will pretty soon. *HINT* :D Thanks for the review!

Lemonlimesweetness: Thank goodness there shall be no grave! Thank you so much for the crit, I really thought about it as I wrote these past few chapters. You are so kind and you flatter me all the time. Thanks for the reviews, it really helped me write 13 and 14. Hmm, independent... Darn, hope she doesn't come off too dependent in this chapter. Time will tell...


	16. Chapter 15

I think these quicker updates will be here to stay for a while. Nothing promised, but I am getting very excited about this.

Thank you so, so much to bellathedisenchanted, echotheinferno, an anonymous reviewer and edahcsmac for reviewing. I really do appreciate it and you guys simply encourage me to update that much quicker. If it wasn't for you guys, I probably would have taken longer due to discouragement, I must admit.

As always world and characters belong to Gail Carson Levine. Story belongs to lemonlimesweetness. Writing belongs to me.

Enjoy!

* * *

Mistress Florence liked to call the first part of her plan: "Phase One." Daria did not necessarily know how many phases there were or what they entailed. She supposed if her first impressions were any indication, these… "Phases" were not going to be as painful as she imagined.

"Lastly- this is Maksim Irons, the Head Steward and Butler of the household."

Daria studied Maksim's slate gray hair and angular facial features before bending into an almost perfect curtsy. "It is an honor to meet you, Mr. Irons."

Like most of the staff, Mr. Irons was taken aback by Daria's greeting. Common protocol usually forced the speaker to say "pleasure to meet you" to a member of a lower class even if it wasn't. For a Lady to tell a servant that it was an "honor" voluntarily was something unexpected.

He liked her immediately.

"It is an honor to make your acquaintance as well." He bowed low at the waist with a flourish and a rare, genuine smile.

Daria smiled back. "I apologize for not trying to meet you sooner. And-forgive my ignorance- but what exactly does a Head Steward do?"

Maksim's smile was now sheepish as he adjusted his well-tailored green and blue dress coat. "Well, M'lady, usually a steward would be in charge of affairs around the manor. Mostly financially. But…" Here he leaned in mischievously, "Lord Alfred's nature prevents him from allowing even his most trusted servant control of the finances. I am mostly an adviser and I make sure that everything else is running smoothly for his Lord and Ladyship. To be perfectly honest, this manor is a bit too small to require a steward anyway. I was simply named 'Head Steward' because Lady Gianna insisted that every well-to-do noble house has a steward."

"Ah, I see." Oh, Daria's first half-lie for the week. She didn't understand why having someone to do something you can do perfectly yourself would be popular. Though, it seemed like a lot of nobles had a lot of popular customs that did not make very much sense.

"Mr. Irons' wife and two sons work over at the Wolfe manor, while his daughter works here as well." Mistress Florence added in helpfully.

Daria brightened with recognition. "Oh yes, I met Perla just this morning! You have a very lovely and sharp-witted daughter, Mr. Irons."

The steward's face crinkled with pride. "Why thank you Lady Daria."

She nodded. "I hope to talk to you again soon," she waved before heading off with Mistress Florence once more.

The young woman mentally took stock of what had transpired the past couple of days. Mistress Florence had swept Daria up into a whirlwind of meeting people and brushing up on how to greet people like a lady. Needless to say that Daria had never curtsied so much in her life.

Surprisingly, it was somewhat fun. She met all the maids, learned the first and middle name of her tutor (Adam Cole) and learned many things about the manor that she probably would not have before. The official colors of the manor were alpine green and sky blue and the family crest contained arrows, a quiver and a bucking stallion. Come to find out that Eleanor's ancestors had been great archers in the royal cavalry. Lord Alfred had continued this tradition until he became extremely ill from an injury dealt to him by one of those treacherous ogres.

Other facts? Her tutor was a secret violin virtuoso and promised Daria a free lesson if she got good marks on her next exam. The maid that cleaned Daria's room was indeed Perla, the steward's daughter. Perla (who had the same hair and warm personality as her father) had shown Daria not one, not two, but _three_ secret hiding places in her room. Only one was big enough for a person to stand in, but it was an exciting find nonetheless. One of the other maids was a dancer when the town held big festivals. The list went on.

At first glance, it seemed that Mistress Florence was bent on making Daria so busy that she didn't have time to think any depressing thoughts. She told the Mistress as much.

"No Daria, I am not trying to take your mind off your pain. To bury you with distractions or work would simply add even more stress in your life. Do you agree?"

Daria thought about it and then nodded. She had tried to bury herself in schoolwork in the past. It had ended in failing most of her courses and disappointing the Mistress and her tutor.

Mistress Florence also nodded, satisfied. "I am trying to establish a repertoire between you and the people at the manor. Hopefully, you will eventually see these people around you as a support system of people you can trust and lean on in times of need. For everyone here is honorable and trustworthy."

"I see."

"Now, my Lady, it is time to progress to Phase Two. We will need to prepare."

Daria felt like a dress up doll. At the ball, she had been too caught up in the wonder of it all to pay _too _much attention to what she was wearing or the adornments they had put on her. But now that she was used to this new lifestyle, she finally realized that the dress she wore to the ball must have been _heavy_.

"Far be it from me to whine, Mistress, but is all this really necessary?" Daria whined.

The elder woman simply clicked her tongue from her position by Daria's four-poster bed. She watched attentively as Perla happily laced Daria's-_wheeze _-corset and carefully slipped the heavy-_oof -_dress over Daria's head.

The young Lady's hair had been styled; a feat that took more than two painful hours, a light dusting of cosmetics had been cautiously applied and now… the dress. At first glance, it had seemed harmless enough. It was a light, transparent blue with moss green flowers embroidered on the bodice and hem. Yes, maybe the skirts seemed a bit poofy but it did not look like something that Daria could not handle.

_Note to self: Self, looks are no indication of weight. You would be remiss to forget that._

"Where you are going, it will be necessary to not only look your best, but it will also be in your interest to display your family colors. There might be some people around that will recognize you and it will be best to represent your family well."

Daria stared in the mirror, wondering if her real family had any colors of their own.

"Oh great Heavens, My Lady Daria! You look as stunning as a princess!" Perla giggled as the three women admired the maid's handiwork.

Lady Daria looked in the mirror with wide eyes. This whole situation seemed like déjà vu and she wondered if she'd ever get used to see herself in such finery.

"… I-I guess I do look kind of… pretty…"

Pearl looked like her jaw had become dislocated as it fell rapidly in the direction of the floor. "Kind of? Who-"

Mistress Florence walked up with a grin on her face. "I don't think our Lady is quite used to taking compliments, Pearl."

The woman, who looked to be around twenty, bit her lip in thought. "I guess we'll just have to get her used to them, then!"

"Indeed."

Daria blushed slightly. Was not being able to take compliments a personality flaw? She looked on in thoughtful silence as Mistress Florence handed over a pair of lace gloves.

"Your look is almost complete." The Mistress announced. "Hmm, do you have any jewels other than what you have in the box on your vanity?"

Daria shook her head as she slipped on the thin gloves. Her mind immediately flashed to her old keepsake necklace that she had saved from the inn. But it was broken and hidden in one of the secret compartments Perla had revealed.

"No."

The Mistress frowned in pensive thought. "Pity. You did not acquire any jewels at your aunt's house?"

"Ah… no."

"I see. No matter, you look stunning as you are. We'll just say that you are going with the natural look. It suits your personality and destination well."

"Where is she going, Mistress Florence?" Perla piped in.

"To the Royal Gardens, of course."

* * *

*Fist pump* Who's really for some Daria/Jerrold interactions? I am. :] I wanted to write all of that in this chapter, but as always, time constraints held me back. I would prefer to insert a short chapter that does not take as long, than a long chapter that takes me... months. What do you think? But really, the next chapter is something I'm really looking forward to.

Loved it? Hated it? Want me to hurry up with the romance already? Please, don't be afraid to leave a review.

Anonymous Reviews:

The lone anonymous reviewer: Oh no! You didn't leave a name so I could thank you for the review properly! Whoever you are, thank you so much and I'll try to review as fast as I can. Peace, Love. :]


	17. Chapter 16

Hey look! Another chapter! I took a bit longer because I was sick plus I wanted to dedicate some time to studying and the like. But here it is. :) (Oh and sorry if it alerted you twice, I needed to fix a few things.)

As always, thanks to CherryTwihart for putting this in their favorites and to bellathedisenchanted, goodgirlgonebad95 and an anonymous reviewer for reviewing the last chapter. I cannot express my thanks enough.

World & characters are always credited to Gail C. Levine. Plot is of course credited to lemonlimesweetness and writing belongs to me.

I hope you enjoy!

* * *

The gardens were breathtaking. Of course, Daria had been versed in the history of these gardens the whole carriage ride here. There was a section for peasants, for nobles and the royal section that was hardly ever opened. There were more than two-thousand plant varieties and species from all over the kingdom and world. The gardens were used for weddings, coronations, balls, special events, the great festivals… the list continued for such a long time that it made Daria woozy just thinking about it.

Seeing the menagerie in person did stranger things to her head.

The drive up was magnificent. Ancient trees towered overhead while a smooth red gravel path ushered its noble visitors to the entrance. The gates themselves seemed to sprout from the ground themselves. Gold and silver bands the size of a giant's wrist emerged from the ground and curled around each other in a dizzying imitation of vines. Intricately molded leaves and flowers looked so lifelike that Daria had to touch an oversized imitation of a creeping plant to remind herself that the real treasures laid inside.

Even the walkways were a display of splendor. Painted porcelain and dried clay tiles displayed stunning mosaics of stories that Daria remembered as a child. Fairies and mermaids frolicked amongst the seven sleeping giants that made up the seven continents while the swan princes protected their sister from the air. The three allied kings recreated their bloody battles against invaders for visitors. Benevolent elves and clumsy gnomes interacted underneath Daria's shoes.

"Look, My Lady."

Then they were through the gates and the sight and smells overwhelmed the young teenager. She had received her first whiff of the fragrant flowers that populated the gardens a few miles back. It had been mere tickle at her nose then. Now it was a full and wonderful offensive on her senses of both sight and smell.

Colorful marigolds lined the bases of sprawling trees that Daria could not recognize much less name. Liles floated serenely in lavish ponds that held resplendent fish and miniature waterfalls. Playful dolphins and reclining naiads decorated fountains that sprouted up in the middle of a bed of roses. Lilacs, orchids, poppies, morning glories, creeping vines, hanging plants, grasses, shrubs, greenery in all shapes and colors were everywhere. Daria gasped in astonishment and the most beautiful perfumes wafted into her nostrils once again.

It was all very overwhelming and outstanding at the same time.

"It is no wonder then," the young girl stated, turning to Serafina, "that you adore this place."

Serafina smiled and nodded to once again thank Daria for allowing her to come.

The girl in question smiled wider than she had in months. "Well, let's go see the rest of it, shall we?"

* * *

Daria was so wrapped up in her joy that she did not notice a lot of things. For example, the fact that it was high noon escaped her mind. She also didn't notice when Mistress Florence and Serafina fell back from their positions beside her. What she did notice though, was the slow approach of a triad of people.

She lifted her eyes from the myriad of colors and was shocked to see the approaching figure. Four yards away. Now three.

When she fell into her curtsey, she wondered exactly how many ways she recognized the person before her. Was it the family crest that so proudly displayed this person's heritage? Was it the expensive clothing, the glistening, golden buttons? The ring that they wore on their right hand? Their posture, that was so straight, sure and authoritative? Or was it the looming presence of their bodyguards, dressed in black with sharpened swords hanging from their waists?

Daria chided herself for being so absurd. The person in front of her could be dressed in rags, hunched and covered in mud and she'd still recognize him. It was faces and names that she remembered best, and this person's face was unforgettable.

"My Lady Daria, it's a pleasure." He greeted silkily as he straightened from his deep bow.

"Why, Prince Jerrold, the pleasure is all mine." She flicked her gaze back to Mistress Florence. She bet the Mistress was glad that they had gone over common greetings and customs just this morning.

_I finally completed a perfect curtsey Mistress, aren't you proud?_

Jerrold chuckled. "We seem to be running into each other very often, don't we?"

Daria mentally winced. She knew there was something she had forgotten to tell her Mistress. Who forgets to tell their etiquette teacher that they knew the Crown Prince? Complete idiots who wanted to get beat, that's who. She had not felt the sting of the switch in a few days. Yet that didn't mean it was gone forever.

…Maybe Mistress Florence did not hear what the Prince said.

"Yes… we do seem to be."

It was one thing to interact with the Prince when Mistress Florence wasn't around. Daria could go around tipping wine on his fancy clothes and cursing him out as much as she wanted without the elder woman. But now Daria _cared_ what Florence thought of her. And the Manners Mistress wouldn't approve of pushing one of the country's most powerful monarchs into the nearby unicorn fountain.

There was a long pause before Daria spoke. She could literally feel Mistress Florence urging her to speak. "If I may ask, your Highness, what brings you to this part of the Gardens?"

Ouch. Switch hit number one. You never, _ever_ question a royal's motives.

But Jerrold took it in stride and smiled. "I thought it was too nice of a day to spend it indoors doing paperwork. Even a prince should take a break once in a while, I think." He turned slightly and offered Daria his arm. "But we could continue this conversation while we enjoy the gardens."

Daria looked at him for a long, searching moment before realizing what she was supposed to do with his arm. "Oh!" She quickly slipped her right hand into the crook of his elbow. "Of course."

Switch hit number two. Only dolts leave a prince waiting.

He had gotten taller since she had last seen him and for some reason she disliked that it seemed like he was towering over her. She peeked back to see Serafina and the Mistress trailing at a very considerable distance with Jerrold's mysterious bodyguards even farther behind.

The prince seemed to become even more confident in speaking freely now and seemed to relax. Whatever the reason was for his leisurely pace, Daria was grateful. It was all she could do to keep from tripping on her skirts.

"So," Jerrold smiled, "it's been a while since I laid eyes on you last."

Daria crinkled her nose at the last memory of him. "Oh. Yes. A very long while."

His eyes narrowed, but he didn't lose that increasingly annoying grin of his. "Do I detect sarcasm in your tone, M'Lady?"

Daria gasped in mock horror. "Oh no, your _Excellency. _I'd never dream of it. See those lovely women accompanying me back there? Why, they'd box my ears if they even caught wind of such unseemly behavior on my behalf."

Jerrold laughed. "I like them already. They sound like very smart women."

Daria rolled her eyes good naturedly. Of course he would.

"My Lady Daria, may I tell you something while running the risk of sounding like a complete brute?"

No. "I would be remiss if I denied the Crown Prince an opportunity to make a fool of himself."

Jerrold winced comically and his grip on Daria's hand tightened almost imperceptibly. "Ooh, such a sharp tongue. Do all former peasants believe they can talk to their sovereign this way?" he joked.

Daria sucked in a sharp breath and stopped walking altogether. The heat of anger was quick to rise to her face this time. The color drained from the prince's face as he realized his mistake.

Jerrold stopped and moved around to the front of her. He looked truly apologetic as he lightly took her gloved hands in his. "My Lady, I am so very sorry. I did not mean it like that. Truly, truly. It was very horrible of me to even bring that up even in jest."

Her upper lip curled slightly as she looked up into his amber eyes. She took a breath to calm herself before continuing. "You know, I was wondering why exactly I was still holding onto the anger of all our ill-fated meetings. 'Why was I holding onto such a petty grudge?' I asked myself… You know what I came up with, My Liege?"

He frowned. "What is that, Madam?"

"You're a pig," Daria spat suddenly.

Jerrold's expression morphed from one of shock to anger in the space of a few seconds. "Now hold on, that is not-"

"At least, that's what I _thought._" She cut him off before carefully pulling her hands out of his. Coming around to face his direction, she assumed her former position. Lightly pushing his arm up and placing her hand back in its original spot, she herded the dumbfounded prince back onto their former course.

She took a breath and continued. "But calling you names only aggravates my previous problem. Why wasn't I able to get over my anger with you? Maybe it's for the same reason you only remember me as that peasant girl who somehow became a noble."

Jerrold looked perfectly chastised. "That's not the only reason I remember you," he argued softly.

"No, but it's a pretty major one."

He had no comeback to that one.

Daria continued, feeling bolder. "I have nothing else to judge you by, your Highness. When I look at you, all I remember is the embarrassment and anger and horror I felt at our first meeting. Even though I did get back at you pretty well." A smile played at the corner of her lips. Sweet comeuppance indeed.

Jerrold chuckled and brought his hand up to his head. "The court was up in arms for days. Not to mention my mother was horrified even if she found the whole situation a little humorous. She absolutely adores clothes and to see that I had managed to ruin _another_ dinner jacket…" He trailed off and sighed.

"Another?"

"I have a thing for mud."

"Ah."

"Now that you mention it, your theory does make sense. I have to admit, I _am_ intrigued by this beautiful girl and the story behind how she came to live in Lord Alfred's household. I've been longing to ask for a while now, but did not think it would be right for me to mention it first. I did anyway."

At least there was that. It was very nice of him, she grudgingly conceded. The fact that he had called her beautiful did not register until much later, when she would review this day in her mind. "Curiosity killed the cat." She grinned.

"Yes but satisfaction brought him back," Jerrold finished defiantly. "What can you expect? People usually love telling me their sordid gossip even if it is none of my business. I hate to admit it, but I seem to thrive on it." He shuddered. "I'm as bad as the court ladies."

Daria sniggered and shook her head. "Nobody is as bad as the court ladies. I've had lunch with a few of them. Imagine, you've spent all your years around them and you have managed to stay passably sane."

Jerrold smiled again and Daria wondered if that was a favorite pastime of his. "Was that a compliment?"

"No."

"I think it was." He prodded her lightly in the hand with a finger. "You just paid you mortal enemy, Jerrold, Crown Prince of Kyrria a compliment!" He gasped dramatically.

Daria did her best to hold in her laughter but her twitching lips gave it away. "You, sir, are a goofball. And I think you just love hearing your title out loud."

He shrugged. "I do, I do. Have to admit, it's one of my better qualities."

The girl next to him bit back a scathing comment and said nothing.

"But in all seriousness, My Lady, I am very sorry for what I did. The wine pouring. I spent some time after our last meeting thinking about it. I was only thinking about myself, how amusing I'd find it. I did not think of your needs, of your reactions. I did not wonder if you were hungry, or where your parents were or even how you ended up in the streets. Now I did think that over and simple words cannot express my sorrow on your behalf. I truly am sorry."

Daria looked down at the colorful mosaics they were passing over and sighed. She could feel the prince's arm tense as he waited for her reply. She guessed this was a humbling experience for the man. How many times did a prince apologize when he had absolutely no need to? In all reality, she had no right to make him. He could have thrown her into prison more easily than he could have repented.

Maybe that showed some blossoming moral fiber on his part. Or maybe it had always been there. Now would she demonstrate how much she had grown these past few weeks by _truly _forgiving him?

Daria sighed. "I forgive you." She couldn't hear Jerrold let out the breath he was holding, but she could feel him relax once more next to her. It was almost like he was seeking her approval. She appreciated it for some reason. "Now, as for the story of how I came to be where I am now… I was adopted by Lord Alfred and Lady Gianna."

"Oh?"

"Yes. But the story before that is very personal and private and as much as my anger has abated, I still do not feel comfortable sharing that with you yet."

Even the prince couldn't hide the hopefulness in his voice as he questioned her. "Yet? So you might tell me someday?"

Oh dear, now she had entangled herself into further engagements with him, hadn't she? What would Mistress Florence say? Who was she kidding? If her old bones allowed, Mistress Florence would be doing back flips and sidekicks at the thought that Daria and the Prince might have a blossoming relation-_friendship_. Just friendship.

Daria pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Maybe. If you don't act like a complete troll again."

"Hey! Don't insult trolls. They actually make very nice company."

Daria snorted, causing Jerrold to snicker at her behavior.

"And right when I was about to compliment you on your progressing language skills."

"Oh shut up," Daria snapped but smirked all the same.

"Hmm… So if I happened to call you and spending time with you absolutely paradisaical, would you know what I mean?"

"No." Daria looked at the prince suspiciously. "I have no idea what para-what-you-said means."

"Good." He patted her hand on his arm with his free right one. "Let's keep it that way for a while, shall we?"

* * *

Paradisaical: of, like, or befitting paradise. (Credits to dictionary . com) I saw the meaning of that word today and just _had_ to throw it in somewhere. Heh.

So what did you think? At first, I was worrying that I wasn't able to make it funny enough and then I let it go, because the more I tried, the worse it was going to get. But as always, it's my lovely readers that make the final call. Loved it? Liked it? Hated it? Please don't be afraid to leave a review!

Anonymous reviews:

Anonymous reviewer: Hi Darling, I don't know if you're the same nameless reviewer as last time, but I really wanted to say I am very grateful for your reviews (both of them haha). I hoped you enjoyed this chapter

goodgirlgonebad95: I must say, I am digging the 95 in your name ;). Just throwing that out there ha. But anyway, here they are! I hoped you liked the interactions. And don't worry, I will not discontinue the story. Thank you so, so much for the review.

bellathedisenchanted: Ooh know the feeling. Aww, your review just about melted my heart when I read it. Not even kidding. What doubly got me was: 1. your kind words and 2. the fact that I had a bio test that Friday too! I thought that was too much of a fun coincidence not to share. Hmm, I don't know if I hashed out Jerrold's jaw drop, but I think that we might still have a few more moments in the garden with these two. I am extremely happy that you like the slow development and that you appreciate my writing. Again, words cannot express how happy this review (along with all of them) made me. Hah, I understand on the vocab brush. I say must say "appreciate" every other word in these comments. (Natural does rule. Make-up does not make beauty, it only enhances it... unless you use too much. Then it's just scary. :)) Shucks, you are way too kind :) Thank you so much for the review. You always leave very nice ones.


	18. Chapter 17

Hello, Darlings. So I have something completely horrible to admit to you. I've had this chapter saved up for... *cough*_months*_cough*. I want to deeply apologize, I didn't realize. I guess I didn't like it and left it be, but in the end I forgot I had it. I cleaned it up as fast as I could in my guilt. I'm not even kidding, I'm very torn up I kept this from y'all. **Angst.**

Sooo as always, muchas gracias goes out to: Chessa-Sirius-Black, Countess Victoria A. Carastille, DustyPhoenix, Ella Granger, HunterofLight124, , Marie Elaine Cullen, , xXJustSomeRandomKidXx, and SKayeB for putting this story on alert. Thanks to: Countess Victoria A. Carastille, Ella Granger, henie (lol), and shawpaw12 for putting this as one of your favorites. And last but not least, thanks to the lovely Twiligrl, Bookaholic12, DustyPhoenix, Anonymous, our very own Countess Carastile, xXJustSomeRandomKidXx, HunterofLight123 and Ella Granger for kindly reviewing. If I accidentally left your name out, just know that you all still rock my socks off and give me the motivation to write.

Enjoy!

* * *

"I can see I'm going to have to compete with the gardens to keep your attention." Jerrold's voice suddenly cut through Daria's reverie.

"Oh," she started slightly and turned to Jerrold. "I apologize, I just…" She gave a very unladylike shrug. "I've never been here before," she admitted. She didn't dare admit that she had absolutely fallen in love with the scenery around her. The Prince seemed to lap up her personal information far too greedily for her tastes.

Jerrold looked scandalized as he regarded Daria. "I thought everyone from Frell had visited the gardens at least once."

_Well I am not from Frell_, Daria thought, but said nothing. She felt like she had revealed too much about herself already by saying she was adopted. Yes, she owed Jerrold an explanation. That's why she had told him. But the idea that she would tell him anything more about herself made her mentally frown.

Why should she? And why would the Prince be bothered to know anyway? In her opinion, she owed him nothing. She had absolutely no idea why he was so interested in her and it made her uneasy.

Once the silence went on long enough to inform Jerrold that his companion wasn't saying anything on the matter, he moved on.

"You know how the Gardens go up to the castle's doorstep?" Jerrold questioned rhetorically and pointed at his home.

Daria peered at the towering structure as if she could see where all the foliage ended. "They do?" She asked unnecessarily.

Jerrold chuckled at her _supposedly_ feigned ignorance. "Yes, they do. Now, a long time ago, when my great-great-great grandfather was King, there was a war between Ayorthia and Kyrria."

Daria's brows came together of their own accord as the young woman looked up at Jerrold's smiling face. "Ayorthia and Kyrria fought a war?"

He nodded and spoke with the utmost confidence. "Oh yes. We used to hate each other very much."

She looked at a passing yellow bird with a long, trailing tail as she pondered this. "I thought both of our countries were always very… peaceful."

Jerrold shook his head. "Not always, My Lady. Politics and the opinion of man seem to change almost as much as the seasons do."

_How very poetic._

"But enough about that." Jerrold waved his free hand in the air flippantly. "What's important is; that in this war, Ayorthia was winning and sent their best soldiers to capture the castle and make it their own. And where do you think they hid?"

Daria's eyes widened. Surprisingly, she was fully engrossed in the story at this point. "Here?"

He nodded again.

The girl looked around stunned. She couldn't imagine a place of such beauty harboring soldiers intent on killing. She could see them now, hidden in the shadows and creeping through willow tree vines. She spied a flock of purple and blue birds lounging round a nearby fountain. Daria wondered if the ancestors of these very birds regarded these intruders with the cold indifference that their offspring showed to her.

"They never did capture the castle," Jerrold continued. "But it did cause the King to change how they handled security. That's when they established what classes got to visit each section of the gardens. It actually represents the different levels of safety. The area closest to the castle is locked down very severely to protect the castle and its grounds. Not because my grandfather hated the different classes. He just wanted to make sure that no one would be able to surround the castle again."

"What do you mean by 'locked down'?"

"Nobody can get in of course. People have tried. But we have fences that blend in, and various magic surrounds each barrier."

Daria let out an "hmm" then looked up at Jerrold suspiciously. "That's not the story I heard." She did not think that the ever-knowledgeable Serafina would let this tidbit of information pass by.

Jerrold gave her a self-satisfied grin. "It's a state secret. Not even the historians know the true reason behind the different classes having their own gardens."

Daria sniffed and diverted her attention elsewhere. "So is that how you impress women? You tell them royal secrets?"

The Prince laughed uproariously even though Daria hadn't thought her question all that funny. "I don't usually need to impress women. They usually are all trying to impress _me._" He confessed.

Daria frowned and resisted the urge to roll her eyes at her Sovereign. He would get no pity from her.

"You're very good at not sounding arrogant, Prince."

He laughed loudly again. "You're very good at being sincere," he retorted happily.

"Why thank you, Highness. I consider that a compliment of the highest level." This time Daria couldn't help a small half-smile and shook her head. Why wouldn't Jerrold just _stop_ smiling?

The silence that followed was now comfortable as they strolled past sprawling ferns and bushes shaped like majestic wild animals.

"Now," Jerrold said in a very business-like tone, "since we are ending our walk, I have to ask you something very important to me."

Daria looked at her companion, suddenly wary.

"Ask away," she said through slightly gritted teeth. The girl knew that she would have to agree to anything he asked of her. He was a prince and Daria had been strictly informed that royalty was not denied anything. _Ever._

"I'm traveling to Ayorthia in three months. Usually princes are required to stay for a year, but my parents think it best for me to spend another year traveling around the provinces and such. I would have done the tour earlier but I caught a bad case of the flu last year. Anyway," Jerrold rubbed the back of his neck absently. "I was hoping if… if I could write to you while I'm gone. I…" Here he locked gazes with Daria as they stopped walking.

"I enjoy talking to you," he declared after an uncomfortable pause. "You don't have to wax poetic or any rubbish like that. I'm even comfortable with court gossip if you do not wish to disclose anything about yourself. Remember, I'm as bad as the court ladies." He winked.

Daria looked up at him and studied his face. "I'm afraid you wouldn't like my letters." She stated and stepped out of his grasp so she could face him. "My penmanship is atrocious at best and I cannot spell to save my life. It would be like reading gnomish."

"I adore reading gnomish!" Jerrold exclaimed.

Daria scowled at him. "Well then I suppose I cannot say no." She really couldn't.

"No you can't." He stated cheekily. "But honestly, Lady Daria, if you are uncomfortable at any time or if you feel that I'm being absolutely boring, I will understand if you chose not to answer me."

"Alright."

* * *

"One last thing I have to do, Your Highness." Daria stated after a few moments of contemplation.

Jerrold's brow creased. "Yes?"

They were all standing at the gates, waiting for Daria to climb into her carriage. But instead Daria had turned on the Prince so suddenly; she didn't know who was more surprised.

"I would like to introduce two people who are very important to me. If we are to write, then you have to know who I may speak about." Oh dear, Daria chided herself. She should just stop talking altogether. Now, because of her big mouth, she had just promised to speak about personal subjects, like her _friends_. Hadn't she just reminded herself how telling Jerrold about her life made her uneasy?

But it was too late to back out now. Daria summoned her Manners Mistress and Serafina and introduced them with all the grace she could muster.

"They are very good friends of mine," she admitted truthfully, leaving out that they were employed by her adopted parents. That would only serve to embarrass them. She also briefly thought that it might make her seem silly to admit that her friends were no more than peasants themselves. But Daria waved off that idea angrily.

There was nothing wrong with being born a peasant after all. She should know. The nobles wouldn't have the pleasure of convincing her otherwise.

The Crown Prince treated them with all the refinement that was expected of him and more. He took their hands and bowed to them and left the two older women grinning like little girls.

"It's a great pleasure to meet you," Jerrold told them. There was nothing in his face that said he was lying and Daria had to give him the benefit of the doubt on that one.

If he was indeed pleased to meet Daria's friends, she might be obligated to like him. Compared to the hatred she had always considered him with; liking him was a dangerous idea.

* * *

"Oh, m'lady." Mistress Florence sighed and touched Daria's knee lightly once they were in the carriage. "He couldn't take his eyes off you."

Typical male, Daria sighed. He only was interested in her looks. She was almost tempted to feel disappointed but then took solace in the knowledge that she could predict this man. She could stereotype him without any feelings of guilt popping up. If he ever broke any of these presumptions, well then, that's when Daria would worry. She didn't have to like him now.

"It must have been the dress." Daria smiled wanly as Mistress Florence chuckled. "My family colors fit me well."

* * *

Daria sighed as she looked at the paper spread out in front of her. She had arrived home and suddenly was struck with the impulse to whisper the happenings of the day to someone. She longed for that kind of close communication she used to have with her family. Emma would have loved to hear about the type of man the Prince was. Her mom would have spared no time in teasing Daria about the all the male attention. Her brother would have simply plugged his ears and would have refused to listen until they started talking about practical things like the inn, money and wars.

But who would she talk to now? In the end, there was no one to be honest with. Lady Gianna would simply swoon at the thought of her adopted daughter meeting the Crown Prince and not care a whit of what Daria had to say beyond that. Lord Alfred? _Eleanor_? Even if Daria turned to Perla, Daria would have to exclude why she disliked the Prince so much. That wouldn't make sense. Even Mistress Florence couldn't be told the whole story.

_If they found out I was a beggar…_Daria sighed and pushed the thought out of her head. Instead, Daria had rushed in, pulled out some clean paper from her lessons and brandished a quill.

If she couldn't talk to anyone of what had happened, she would write it. Not only would she be able to collect her thoughts, but it would be a good way of venting.

_Dear Emma_, Daria begun…

_If you were here I'd tell you everything that has trans-trans-_here Daria had to scribble out a good section of paper-_I'd tell you everything that has happened. You wouldn't believe me, but I suspect you would like the Prince far more than I would…_

The young woman inspected her writing and grinned. She was a horrible writer, but at least it was penmanship practice. Her tutor, Adam C. Jacobs would be proud... Maybe he would even owe her a violin lesson soon.

* * *

As always, any kind of review is appreciated!

Anonymous reviews:

Bookaholic12: Thank you so much for the wonderful review! Descriptiveness is very much a word haha. If anything, we have made it an official word of this story haha. Thank you for the name compliment as well. I didn't know what else to name myself when I first joined FF, so I decided I'd just put "Whatever" :D. Thank you so much (again) for the review.

Anonymous: Thank you for the review, and I shall try to update ASAP this time. :)


	19. Chapter 18

Hey look! And update that didn't take months! :D

Thanks goes out to xXJustSomeRandomKidXx, bella-me, Ella Granger and HunterofLight123 for the feedback in your reviews and your PMs! I do get a little weird about reviews sometimes (my deepest apologies), but I really do love the feedback and input you guys give. You rock!

Hope you enjoy!

* * *

The whole household was lined up to say good bye to the Howls. Daria was beside herself with sadness, and while no tears were forthcoming, her eyes still stung.

As soon as Perla had informed Daria of what was transpiring, the young Lady darted up the stairs to the servant's quarters as fast as her large dress would allow her.

"Why-why are you leaving?" Daria demanded none-too-nicely.

Serafina had been packing when the young girl had darted in. The cook jumped then turned around with a sad smile on her face. She tapped her smiling lips and shrugged instead of answering.

"I-I didn't know you were leaving." Daria was incredulous. "_Why_?"

The young woman swallowed down her rising panic and desperation. She had thought that… that… Daria had come to think of the silent cook as a _friend_.

_Why is she leaving me? Why does everyone leave?_

Serafina still had a serene smile on her face as she walked over and lightly grabbed Daria's hands.

"We were only going to stay for a little while," the cook began after a moment of contemplation. "The other cook… well the other cook has been here much longer than we have. She needed to attend to some personal matters. We were only here as a temporary replacement."

Daria's knees almost gave out. Why wasn't she ever informed about this? More importantly, why did she let herself get attached? All of her friends and family kept on leaving her.

"W-where will you go?" Daria cursed her voice for how weak it sounded.

"Back to our original employers."

Daria nodded and numbly let the cook hug the Lady good-bye.

Now, Daria stood tall and proud as the cheap carriage holding Billy and Serafina Howl slowly wheeled down the long manor drive. As the new cook happily strolled up to the receiving line, Daria's posture didn't relax. Even Lord Alfred gave the newcomer one of his rare, small grimaces that paraded as a smile. Everyone seemed to know and hold this new/old cook in high regard.

But when the short woman respectfully bowed to Daria, the young girl's face did not even twitch. The older woman looked nice enough, with a pleasant face and a mass of curly hair. Her smile was even infectious; everyone seemed to be happy.

But Daria would not let herself be taken in. It wasn't that she wanted to be cold. She was simply still stinging about Serafina's hasty departure. They hadn't even told Daria that they were going to leave. If this was how friends treated other friends… well then, Daria was determined not to make new ones.

It was a rash and somewhat misguided decision. But Daria was stubborn and hurt. She didn't see that the cooks did not want to appear above their station by treating their employers like friends. Or that they didn't understand how Daria viewed them.

No matter what, Daria decided that she and the cook Mandy would never be friends.

* * *

If any of the servants noticed how Daria's attitude towards everyone had cooled, they didn't say anything. It was not their place to notice. Daria's impromptu violin lessons, which had once been full of laughter, were now silent and serious. Perla was uncharacteristically quiet as she prepared Daria in the morning.

The only one who seemed to have a problem with this was Mistress Florence. She would send Daria questioning looks at times. Sometimes, the Manners Mistress would even ask Daria if anything was the matter. Instead of pouring out her heart like before, Daria would coldly suggest that that line of questioning was severely inappropriate.

Each time she said that however, Daria would have to bite her lip to keep from apologizing profusely. The shock on Florence's face made Daria sad for inflicting that kind of pain.

But Daria was still committed to being friendless and she would stay that way.

That is, until someone convinced her otherwise.

Daria was painfully lonely. She was starting to realize it was her own fault. She also realized with a bit of panic that she was returning to her old self: The girl who was severely depressed and alone.

Was it better that way?

In an attempt to comfort herself, she had turned to the contents of one of her hiding spots. Carefully, Daria reached up into a cupboard and took out the false bottom. A small velvet pouch was waiting happily for her there. Daria reverently pulled it out and hastily returned the cabinet to normal.

She softly fingered the small lumps in the pouch and sighed. Daria had seemed to have cried herself out these past few months, so there was no danger of tears now. But she did doubt.

She doubted herself. She doubted her ability to pick and keep her friends. Although she tried to assure herself that the deaths of her family were not her fault, she doubted that notion too.

She still blamed herself.

In truth, she still hated herself.

_Maybe,_ she later wrote in one of those letters she would never get to send, _maybe if I had not been so mad to Serafina, we could have been friends still. Maybe we could even write from time to time. Paper is ex… ech… expen… pricey, but I would have send some. _

She always messed everything up. _Everything._ No matter how much Mistress Florence tried to assure Daria that nobody should blame themselves for mindless disasters, the young noble never could make herself believe that. She truly and completely felt that the death and loss that hung around her like a curtain was a self-inflicted curse at best.

So that was why Daria was holding her necklace like it was the key to her salvation. That's why she was sitting on her bed, huddled over the small pouch. That necklace had been with her through all of her trials. It was even a victim. Its dainty gold chains had crumbled and melted and some of the priceless jewels had fallen out due to that infernal fire.

_The fire that was Daria's fault._

It wasn't her fault of course. But Daria had a lot of time to think in those few weeks that she had isolated herself from society. She had come to the conclusion that she needed to make it right in some roundabout way. The only way it seemed possible was by getting her necklace fixed.

Maybe if she got her necklace fixed, she could possibly "fix" at least a part of this situation or even start atoning for whatever she had done to get a curse.

Determined to see this mission all the way through this time, Daria resolutely informed Lady Gianna and set off before her "mother" could get a word in otherwise.

Following the path she had taken before, Daria weaved her way to the jewelers skillfully. Before, she had been reveling in the beautiful day and her good-fortune. Today the sky was overcast and the girl was too set on her goal to particularly admire her new city. There would be time for that later when she had finally redeemed herself with this one little thing.

But Fate seemed to feel particularly ornery whenever it came to our hero, Daria. So happily it arranged for the worst to happen.

Daria ran headfirst into someone. They both staggered back, although the stranger seemed to recover with a lot more grace than Daria did. They even recognized her first.

"Lady Daria!" Prince Jerrold practically gushed. "I was just thinking about you."

Daria was having trouble shaking off her shock. So when she spoke, it wasn't very generous.

"I wasn't thinking of you." She said bluntly. A beat later she realized her mistake and her eyes grew as large as her anatomy would allow.

Oh she would have to give _herself _a whipping when she got home.

Jerrold simply laughed with his never ending affability and friendliness. He bowed in greeting but reached to the ground as something caught his eye. Daria looked down in confusion.

Her confusion, however, was quick to melt into heart-pounding panic. The light blue pouch she had been clutching in single minded resolve the whole way here was now sitting in a small mud-puddle. Worse yet, it was right next to Jerrold's feet. Even if she had the speed of an elf, she would never be able to grab it before he did.

"That's mine!" Daria exclaimed as the Prince took hold of the dirty object.

"Oh?" He flashed a playful smile. "It seems like you are very anxious to have it back and I've never seen you so. What could possibly be in this bag?"

Her feet moved her forward of their own volition. Her panic was reaching critical levels now. She knew; she just _knew _that if he peered in that bag, something bad was going to happen. She didn't know what, but the buzzing in her head warned her frantically. Her hand extended itself in a silent plea for him to return it without a fuss.

"Nothing, nothing at all. If I could just have that back-"

It was too late. In the infinitesimal span of a few seconds, the Prince had slipped a long finger into the drawstring hole and had wiggled the pouch open. With ease, it fell open and happily revealed its contents.

Jerrold paused, stunned. His thick brows came together in confusion as he stared down at the necklace. The necklace would have been too expensive for a lesser noble to own, much less a peasant.

Time seemed to slow. It held Daria captive and her muscles began to ache in her desperation. She wanted to move. She wanted to run up to the Prince, snatch away the necklace and then disappear into the crowd. But she couldn't. All she could do was watch.

His captivating eyes deliberately made their way up to meet hers. They asked her so many questions. His mouth slowly opened to make them real. She could easily ignore the silent questions. As soon as he asked them out loud, she would be bound by duty to answer.

Time returned to normal as soon as he spoke.

"Where… I mean, how did you happen to come by this…" he chose the next word very carefully, "_exquisite_ piece Lady Daria?"

Daria wanted to tell him everything. She wanted to tell him about the inn; about how she had found it under a floorboard and about how she had dug through a pile of rubble and ashes to find it. She wanted to stomp her foot and pull out her hair. She would do anything, _anything_ to make him _give it back_.

"I found it," ended up being all she could declare. Her mouth had decided to rebel against her brain. No matter what kind of fit Mental Daria threw, her mouth stayed virtually locked. "I found it as a child. It was abandoned."

Jerrold slowly turned back to the pouch. He shifted the contents with a light touch for what seemed like an eternity to Daria.

"My Lady," he breathed. "I-I'm not trying to hurt you or make you despair but…" His eyes softened into what could almost be called anguish as he met Daria's gaze once more. "This has a Royal Seal on the clasp. Pieces like this… Well they are given to friends of the Crown and by default still belong to the Crown after the owner dies or… loses… them."

Daria felt like her stomach had disappeared. It was as if she had jumped off a tall hedge and experienced that jarring feeling of leaving her innards behind.

He continued in that pleading tone. Daria hated how his eyes were begging for her forgiveness.

"I do not wish to do this… but...It's… it's my duty, you see… To… T-to reclaim wha-what has been lost."

His words seemed to hang heavily in the air between them. They didn't disappear until a sudden burst of rain angrily washed them away and soaked Daria and Jerrold to their bones.

So that was it. Daria's first step to redemption and it was taken away without a single thought. Life seemed to be trying to make her life absolutely miserable. She bit the inside of her lip to keep from screaming and turned on her heel. She left without saying goodbye.

* * *

Hopefully, I'll have a new chapter up so we don't have to stay with this sad one for a while. How did you feel about this chapter? Feel free to put in your two cents, review, PM or by egging my house ( but I would prefer if you please don't. It's a rental.) I have to admit, I'm kind of excited that another good ol' Ella Enchanted character has been thrown in the mix.

Anonymous reviews:

bella-me: Oh dear, that made me smile so wide. One: This is an old fave? Wow, I'm flattered for me and Lemonlimesweetness. Thank you. Two: You find it cute? Yay! Haha, I do like the cutesy stuff too, it just makes my day. I'm glad it could for you too. Three: Whoops. Maybe you are mad at me now since... they're not getting along anymore... . But seriously, thank you a bunch for the review, it was very kind of you to leave such nice words. 95


	20. Chapter 19

Hello all. Again, sorry for any editing mistakes. _Ella Enchanted_ belongs to Gail Carson Levine. This story/plot belongs to Lemonlimesweetness. The writing belongs to me.

A lot of thanks goes out to: Countess Victoria A. Carastile, xXJustSomeRandomKidXx, Ella Granger and HunterofLight123 for reviewing/sending me a PM. Thanks also goes out to Candy8496 for adding this to your favorites. All of your constant support and dedication is so wonderful and appreciated. Thank you.

Enjoy!

* * *

"Here you go, Lady. Eat this."

Daria struggled against the blackness that clouded her vision.

"What?" Her voice was raspy and her throat sore. She swallowed against the pain and tried again. "I'm sorry, what-what were you saying?"

A kind voice repeated its demands patiently. "You'll need to open your eyes."

Oh. Right. That was probably why she couldn't see.

Daria struggled against her sticky eyelids. Eventually she was able to take in the scene before her. Bright noon sunlight streamed through her window and made patterns on her red blankets. Perla was standing in the far corner, wringing her apron nervously. On Daria's right, Mistress Florence was standing next to the bed, trying-and failing- not to look worried. On her left, Mandy was offering a spoon and a bowl of soup with one of those pleasant smiles.

Daria couldn't help sniffing the soup. It smelled _amazing_. But then she remembered that she was determined not to like the cook, and quickly frowned.

"What happened?" She asked finally.

Mistress Florence spoke softly. "Perla came to rouse you this morning, but could not wake you. We were all very worried."

Daria looked around her room but could find no trace of her adopted family. Did they not care?

Mandy seemed to have intercepted Daria's thought processes.

"Lady Gianna and Eleanor were dutifully informed that there was nothing wrong except for fatigue and a cold, so they left on their planned shopping trip." The cook informed. "Lord Alfred has been out since six and hasn't been back since."

Daria sunk into the pillows. Oh the _shopping trip_. She was not disappointed she had missed that. To her, spending a day in a cramped carriage with an ex-friend who loved shopping almost as much as a person loves knives in their abdomen had not sounded like fun. Daria also was not looking forward to competing with Eleanor for Lady Gianna's attentions.

The two teenagers were cordial to each other. They had even graduated to asking each other curt sentences. "How was your day?" "Nice weather we're having lately." But neither of them seemed capable or willing to forget what had transpired between them. Daria was waiting for Eleanor to stop seeing Peter while Eleanor was waiting for Daria to approve of the match. Neither of them was willing to compromise.

They had also been on the outs for so long; it seemed difficult to even _remember_ why they had been friends in the first place.

"Oh. Well I'm fine… Except my throat hurts." Daria gave a thin smile to Florence and Perla. "Thank you for your concern." There was a moment of inaction. "You can leave if you wish."

The two women seemed to remember themselves and quickly ran off. Daria didn't want to run them off, but she had a headache and all she wanted to do was sleep. She was tired, cranky and miserable. The longer she stayed awake, the longer she would have to remember what transpired yesterday.

The sense of loss that hung over her head like a dark cloud threatened to consume her.

The worst part of it was she was actually starting to _like_ the Prince. He had finally started to redeem himself in her eyes. He had once been the selfish pig that had dumped wine on a wretched creature into a cheerful man who was going to be her Sovereign one day. He was someone who made her laugh.

Not a lot of people had been able to do that.

"So," Mandy cut through Daria's mental haze. "This soup is doing nothing but becoming colder."

"Oh! Where are my manners?" Daria pushed herself up to a sitting position and accepted the hot bowl with a thank-you.

Mandy nodded and sat in a chair a foot or so away. She studied Daria's facial expressions.

"Something amiss, m'Lady?"

Daria looked up guiltily. She was caught.

"Umm…" She didn't know how to phrase her question. Instead, Daria pointed at the strange, long things floating around her soup. They almost looked like…

"Hair," Mandy replied, "unicorn hair."

Daria fought back a look of revulsion and Mandy chuckled.

"Chicken soup will do a very good job at fighting your cold. But chicken soup with unicorn hair will most definitely get rid of it. Recipe from back home. Works every time."

Daria was still aware of poverty and what true hunger felt like, so she did not deny the food like a spoiled Lady should. Instead she buckled in and daintily ate around the strange objects.

"A pity you caught a cold from that rain yesterday." Mandy commented after a short silence.

Daria nodded her agreement. "Mmhmm."

"Are you some kind of con-artist, Daria?"

Daria choked on a unicorn hair.

"_W-whaaat?_" She exclaimed for the second time that day.

"You heard me, Daria." Mandy stated calmly. "What are you trying to accomplish?"

Daria decided to play ignorant. Who was this woman to be demanding these things? "I don't know what you're talking about." She lied smoothly.

Mandy's pleasant smile turned absolutely feral. "Yes you do. I've been working for Lady Gianna since she was married, and her mother before her. In fact, I've been with these women for generations. I know my masters like they were my own children. I can assure you with all the confidence in the world, that Lady Gianna was only pregnant _once_ with Eleanor. You, then, are an impostor."

Daria processed Mandy's claims. The cook did not look too old. If Mandy worked for Lady Gianna's mother, then that would mean the cook should look far older. Was she an elf? No, they were too pompous to do manual labor. That meant…

Daria's eyes widened in realization.

"Yes, Daria. I am a fairy." Mandy seemed to have intercepted Daria's thoughts once again.

The teenager had once been told that fairies could tell if you were lying. It was a rumor of course but if it was true, Daria would be forced to tell the truth. Anyway, even if it wasn't true, it was not very smart to lie to the person who prepared your food.

"Eleanor invited me to live here." Daria said defensively. It was the only move she could think of making. It was obvious that Mandy doted on Eleanor. Eleanor's favorite dishes were often served at dinner. Once, Daria had even stumbled upon the two talking and laughing in the kitchen by accident.

In fact, Daria had to remind herself not to be jealous of their closeness. Eleanor needed friends as much as Daria did.

But Mandy still didn't seem satisfied with that last answer. "Did you coerce her?"

"I don't know what coerce means." Daria winced at how ignorant she sounded. At times like these, she was very aware of her poor upbringing.

"Did you _force_ Eleanor to take you in? She's very impressionable." Mandy was leaning forward now, practically pinning Daria down with her eyes.

_That she is_, Daria thought. She sighed and looked down into her bowl. "No." She answered curtly.

She had a sudden burst of courage and locked eyes with Mandy. "I don't even know why she convinced her parents to take me in. I was poor and homeless and… _dirty_. I never thought that Eleanor would even talk to me, and I certainly never thought of asking for help or even a home from her."

"So why did she do it?" Mandy was unrelenting.

Daria looked down at her bowl once again. She had to word this one carefully. Honestly. Or else Mandy would never be satisfied with Daria's answer.

"Eleanor is… good. She's one of those people who could see the good in a criminal. She's kind and considerate and… well, she takes pity on the pitiful and sorry. Like me."

There was a long time where neither party said anything. They simply chewed on the implications of the last confession. This didn't mean Daria and Eleanor were automatically become friends again. But everything was true.

Mandy nodded and stood up slowly. "I'll send someone from the kitchens to retrieve your bowl once you're done," she pronounced softly. "Eat the unicorn hairs. They're expensive."

Then she was gone out the door. Daria leaned back in her mountain of pillows and mulled over what had just happened. Would Daria be kicked out of the manor? No, thank goodness. Would Mandy and Daria ever become friends? Most likely, no.

That was just fine with Daria. She didn't like being manipulated into anything. But she ate the unicorn hairs anyway and kept her distance from the feisty cook.

* * *

So we go from a sad chapter to one full of suspicion? How did you feel about it? Hate it? Love it? Eh? Let me know what you like. :)

I've always thought Mandy would be the suspicious, sneaky type. To keep Ella sane for that long, it seems like she would have to be.

Heh, I've written the next chapter already, I just need to clean it up. So look out for that in the next few days.


	21. Chapter 20

So umm... this is a long chapter. Which just means I ran out of editing juices, and no matter how horrified I'll be at a mistake, I kinda just want to kick this one out already.

Thanks so much xXJustSomeRandomKidXx and Countess Victoria for reviewing! Your reviews make me laugh and encourage me to just write some romance already! Haha, you guys (as always) _rock_.

Heh, hope you enjoy!

* * *

"Oh, Daria, it's such a shame you missed it!" Lady Gianna gushed. "Eleanor and I saw some gorgeous dresses. And the shoes-"Here the Lady gasped in pleasure "-they were completely dazzling!"

Daria's lips quirked upwards at Gianna's excitement. Never had the teenager seen someone so taken by clothes and shopping. Everyone in her life had been too poor to waste their time dreaming about something they could never afford.

These rich people on the other hand, were absolutely _hilarious_ when they started thinking about their favorite hobby.

"That sounds very nice, Gianna." Daria proclaimed.

Lady Gianna grinned and nodded enthusiastically. "Oh yes it was. I also got you a few things."

Daria repressed an inner groan. She was very grateful for all of the generosity she was shown, and she did like shopping herself. But Gianna's style was a _bit_ different.

Okay, a lot different.

This time, however, Daria was safe. Lady Gianna had simply bought some cosmetics and a few pieces of conservative jewelry. Nothing too outlandish. So Daria nodded and pretended to listen to her adopted mother's yammering.

It was only fair. Lady Gianna was preparing for something that would occupy her time for the next few weeks. They were going to be attending a ball.

It was Prince Jerrold's going away party. Since Jerrold was going away for so extended amount of time and since the year long trip to Ayorthia was considered to be a prince's rite of passage, it was going to be one of the biggest parties of the year, if not the next few. The noble women were practically foaming at the mouth at the thought of the grandeur that was going to accompany this party.

The King and Queen were not going to spare any expense in making the ball a success. The whole city of Frell was in an uproar. Everyone was invited. The food would be plentiful, the music fantastic, the fireworks breathtaking and the whole ball would be teeming with beautiful women and handsome men looking for a great time. Nobody could imagine anything more wonderful.

Except Daria. She much rather would have preferred to stay home with a book or playing a game of checkers with Mr. Irons. She was killer at checkers.

She knew without a doubt that if she went to that ball, she would come across _him._ Hundreds of people would be there and it was almost guaranteed that she would end up seeing the Prince.

She couldn't stand thinking of him even now. Two months had passed since that fateful day and it still felt like yesterday. Her night would most definitely be ruined if she even had to look on him.

But she didn't have a good excuse not to go. Mandy had given her a clean bill of health two weeks ago. Not that Daria's sickness would have mattered. Lady Gianna was very determined to drag her whole family to the event, even if they were gripped by a sudden plague and were too weak to stand, much less dance. This was what Lady Gianna looked forward to all year. She could only occupy herself with gossiping with her friends and various household activities for so long.

At balls like this, all the tension and boredom of the upper class was sure to peak and explode into more fodder for gossip and the like.

Daria hadn't even begun to understand all these little nuances. She did understand that it was usually the men of the household who ran their estates and did all the work with their tenants and such. The women in turn, were no more than trophy wives. Some of the noble women did work for charity and came to know the people on their land very closely. Those women were few and far between and Lady Gianna was not one of them. Daria just didn't understand that if the Ladies could not occupy themselves with work, they would occupy themselves with whatever else was available.

It was strange for Daria. Back home, she had to work or face starvation. There was never an _option_ of working or not. It also didn't matter your gender. Daria's mother had worked just as hard as her father had, if not more. There was never even the idea of working less simply because you were a woman.

Daria did not know what kind of Lady she would be in the future, but she was sure that if she didn't have schoolwork to occupy her time, she would go completely mad.

Having sympathy for Lady Gianna was making a lot more sense. So Daria agreed to go and get fitted for a new gown-even though there were perfectly good ones in her closet-and tried to put a brave face on. She would just have to try and be as inconspicuous as possible.

* * *

Being inconspicuous would be _impossible_. The seamstress had taken one look at Daria and grinned like a hyena.

"I have the perfect dress for you," the seamstress had drawled. "Just the _perfect_ one."

It was red. It was an eye-catching, too much attention-grabbing, scarlet monstrosity.

To be honest, it was a beautiful creation. No, actually, it was "gorgeous." The sleeves began just under Daria's shoulders, creating the effect of a strapless dress. It hugged Daria's waist conservatively and the small crystal beads embroidered into the skirts were far too pretty for Daria to look at for an extended period of time. The soft leather gloves that came with it also conveniently hid Daria's unseemly calluses. Her necklace with a single ruby complimented the dress as well.

But the color was what angered Daria.

Red. While everyone else would be waltzing and gallivanting around the ballroom in their electric blues and happy pastel colors, Daria would be forced to walk around with the dress the color of an open wound. The whole situation was deplorable.

The whole carriage ride to the castle, she tried to keep from picking at the ribbons in her hair in annoyance. That meant she had to fist her hands in her dress to keep from screaming. Eleanor did not have it any easier. She was dressed in the color of light harvest orange that did complement her very well.

At least she was still in a slightly pastel color. Eleanor did not need to walk around like a pretentious eyesore.

What really hammered the nail into the coffin for Daria was the fact that it was well known that the royal family would be in red as well. The exact shade that Daria was clothed in right now. She could only imagine the kind of desperate signals she would be sending.

According to the smile on Lady Gianna's face, the older woman knew _exactly_ what kind of message Daria would be sending.

As soon as the carriage came into view of the castle, Daria's stomach twisted in nervousness. The splendor and magnificence of the people entering the castle and the sheer size of the building intimidated Daria to no end. Instead of being angry over what message she would send to the Royal Family, she started becoming nervous of the message she would start sending everyone else.

Who was she to be pretending that she could possibly become a royal one day? She was just a peasant masquerading as a noble. She had very little education compared to her peers, and she didn't even _like_ the princes. More than anything Daria started wishing her dress was any other color but red.

She thought about it as she stepped out of the carriage. It was on her mind as she walked up the steps and tried to convince herself the stares were just a product of her imagination. She couldn't get it out of her head as they walked into the ballroom.

Fortunately, due to the large number of people in attendance, no one was announced. It would simply take all night. That meant that Daria was saved from the embarrassment of having to stand while everyone gawked at her and her desperate attire.

She didn't notice how little people thought of the color. She couldn't have possibly imagined that they appreciated it as a color that looked very well on her and nothing else. If anyone did think it was a ploy to get the attention of the young bachelor princes, it was just because they were jealous they hadn't thought of it first.

Yet, she did not see this and was afflicted with an upset stomach for a very long time.

* * *

The prince was staring at her. Not Jerrold, but the other one. The middle one was staring at her over a large goblet of wine. His black eyes bore into the side of her face and Daria could feel the heat of it on her cheek.

It was about an hour and a half into the party and everyone had pretty much finished eating for the night. Now they just wanted to dance. Daria hadn't seen Jerrold at all. That relief coupled with the soothing effects of extremely good food and wine had ended up taking the edge off her nerves.

Now, her anxiousness was being replaced with a small sense of anger. What in the world was he staring at?

Daria was sitting at her table all alone. Eleanor had been whisked away by a very drunk gentleman and Lady Gianna was trying to track down her husband. He had mysteriously disappeared.

_Lucky man_.

Daria had danced a few times and discovered that she kind of enjoyed it. As long as she had a good partner, she could see how much she had improved. Maybe those lessons were actually worth it in the end.

She had finally escaped to her seat after one graceless gentleman had accidentally stepped on her toes far too often for her to stand. He was very apologetic and it had taken awhile to assure him that she wasn't angry at him. Anyway, it was fun to watch everyone having a good time. It was so packed, there was almost always something going on.

Couples were completely absorbed in each other and were barely dancing at all to her left. Little children stole ribbons off of each other's dresses and were running around with their treasure trailing behind them. Girls giggled at the silly displays of manhood the boys were trying to create. Mothers gossiped with each other while the men stood to the sides looking uncomfortable and bored. Drunkards stumbled into everyone they could while gluttons attacked all the food they could.

Chaos and harmony interacted smoothly with each other. It was interesting and a tad… fun.

That was until whatever-his-name-was started to try and intimidate Daria. She finally couldn't take it anymore and glared at him. She jutted out her chin in a dare. Would he have the courage to tell her exactly why he was being impossible?

He smiled, put his goblet down and walked over. He bowed deeply in front of her chair and took her hand as protocol demanded.

"Prince Jackson, m'Lady. And you are?"

_Annoyed._ "Lady Daria, your Highness."

"Ah. Now that we've gotten the formalities out of the way…" He grinned and swept into a seat next to her.

"Do I have something on my face, Highness?" She asked. She just couldn't abide his staring. It was driving her crazy.

Prince Jackson chuckled and shook his head. "I'm just trying to figure out the woman who has been driving my brother crazy."

Daria looked at the Prince sharply. "What?"

Jackson waved off her question and leaned back into his chair. He seemed uninterested in gazing at her once he had her attention. "He's been complaining how he would probably never be able to even see you again and how you hated him, or something of the sort. I couldn't care if you hate him, but I wanted to see what kind of girl actually made my brother care as much as he does.

"I can't see what so great about you, actually."

Daria looked away in disgust. All princes were jerks! Jackson laughed heartily at her expression.

"You're feisty!" He exclaimed. "Good! That's very good."

Daria made to get up. She was so angry she didn't trust herself around him any longer. "If you'll excuse me…"

"No! Sit! I didn't mean it!" He exclaimed but he was laughing. "I just wanted to see if you were like those girls that usually went for my brother."

Daria looked down her nose at the prince. "I'm not even trying to pursue your brother."

"Yes, and that's what makes you so interesting." He leaned across the table to smile at her. "I'm trying to figure out why not."

"Because he's a pig." Daria stuck her nose up in the air and resisted the urge to laugh at how hilarious and pompous she probably looked.

Jackson guffawed in response.

Great. Kyrria was stuck with one prince who wouldn't stop smiling and another who refused to stop laughing. What was the Royal Family coming to these days?

Once he had apologized, Jackson ended up being great company. His sarcasm was even more biting than Daria's and once she told herself not to take him too seriously, she couldn't stop laughing at his wicked sense of humor. He parodied the men of the court and to his delight, Daria very willing to make fun of the women. They ended up having a great time together.

That was until he pointed out something.

"It seems like my brother has been watching us." He stared at a spot behind Daria.

"Where?" She made to turn but he stopped her with an outstretched hand.

"It seems," he started, getting from his seat gracefully, "I must ask for a dance."

"And why is that?"

He grinned rakishly. "Why to make my brother jealous of course."

Daria felt disgust settle in her stomach. "I couldn't care less if he's jealous or not." She proclaimed and sat up straight with all the grace she could muster. It only made her end up looking stiff and cold.

"Yes," Jackson agreed good-naturedly. "But once he sees that he'll have competition, he'll have to prove himself in one way or another."

"And?" Daria didn't get what Jackson was implying.

"And then," Jackson beamed, "he might just return your necklace."

Daria was happy to dance with the Prince.

* * *

For the remainder of the ball, Daria and Jackson watched as Jerrold tried in vain to approach them. Either they slipped into the crowd, laughing like naughty children, or the Crown Prince would be mobbed my admirers.

Daria knew that her behavior was childish and petty. She knew that Jerrold had not wanted to take her necklace from her. She acknowledged that she had committed herself to try and look past their differences as well. She liked to think of herself as mature.

Playing hide-and-seek with the future king of Kyrria wasn't mature. It was downright foolish.

Although, Jackson eagerly condoned Daria's silly behavior. She was willing to use that as an excuse until common sense reminded her of the rumors that surrounded the middle Prince. He might have been great company, but he would break her heart just as soon as he'd toy with his brother.

So finally, as the night was winding into dawn, Daria took her leave of her new-found partner in crime. She had actually been planning on making her way back to her table and finding her family so they could all head home. Yes, she had regretted taking her game to the level she had, but when a hand lightly pulled her into a secluded area behind a gigantic column, the Lady had to stifle a curse.

"My Lady Daria." Jerrold breathed.

He looked as disheveled as any reveler might look after a long party. His hair was a bit ruffled and the first button of his doublet had come undone. But while it was normal for someone to look tired after a night of dancing, it wasn't normal for them to look weary. His features were strained and Daria almost softened at the sight of the dark bags under his eyes.

"Your-your Highness… Are you alright?"

He shook his head and gave a sardonic smile. "No. No I'm not. I've been looking for you all night actually." The twinkle had returned to his eyes and his eyebrow was raised in an unspoken question.

This time, Daria's mood did change a bit. She narrowed her eyes playfully in turn.

"Were you? Oh do forgive me, I hadn't noticed."

He allowed himself a laugh before becoming serious once again.

"I wanted to apologize," he conceded finally. "I know that… well that it wasn't a very courteous move on my part and… I would hate it if you abhorred me for it."

Daria played with the ruffles on her gloves. She couldn't look him in the face, not with the intense look he was giving her. He was being far too honest. Even when they both apologized for the wine, they hadn't been as honest and as open as he was being now.

For some reason their mixed emotions were rushing at her too fast. She had to take a steadying breath before considering her next move. He would never understand how much he had hurt her unless she revealed why the necklace was so important to her. To do that, she'd have to reveal her past and…

Her mouth, which had been open and ready to confess what had happened, now slammed shut. She couldn't tell him. She hadn't even told Eleanor. What made her think that Jerrold would be the one to admit all this to?

Why was she deceiving herself? He would never care as much as she needed to.

So Daria decided on another tactic. It hurt, but it would have to do.

"I forgive you," she professed in a small voice. "I-it's alright. I do understand."

She was focusing on his coat buttons now. She couldn't look up at his face, because she didn't want to give herself away. She didn't want to see how emotional she was over a silly necklace.

Daria would hate it if he thought she was that shallow. She wasn't of course, but he would never know.

Jerrold breathed a sigh of relief. She couldn't hear it, but she could see his coat and chest rise and fall with the force of it.

"Thank you, Lady."

He took her hand, forcing her to look up at his face in question. His old, brilliant smile returned.

"I hope this doesn't mean you won't write me now? Have I proved myself to be too much of a troll?"

Daria gave him a thin smile despite herself. She spoke slowly, picking her words with care. "I… I have heard that trolls actually make very nice company."

He smiled so wide that Daria was worried that his face would split.

_Goodness, these royals…_

* * *

So umm... with two Princes, am I forgiven? :) How do you feel about the direction? Too slow? Too fast maybe? From here on out, there will be more Daria/Jerrold interactions. So you can look forward to that.


	22. Chapter 21

Hey guys, so I finished this three days ahead of schedule, so I'm pretty excited! After this chapter, I think the pacing will speed up a tiny bit, because covering a whole year in letters is a bit tedious. I don't even know how I can pull that off haha. I would need about 26/27 weeks' worth of letters.

Anywhos, first off, I want to thank Ella Granger for reviewing both chapters 19 and 20 back to back. I also want to thank xXJustSomeRandomKidXx, Countess Victoria, Childoffaith, Candy8496, the beauty of sarcasm, and HunterofLight123 for reviewing the last chapter. I had such great feedback from you guys, it was so awesome to receive it. Much thanks also goes out to highfivejellyfish, ihatetoasters, , and CRAZYKID2655 for putting this in their favorites! Also thanks to , , twiligrl, childoffaith24680, midnight0sun95 and highfivejellyfish for putting this on alert. You guys are so awesome, words cannot describe it.

Hope you enjoy!

* * *

"My Lady Daria?" An older maid stood in the doorway.

Daria looked up from the book she was reading and gave a small smile. "Yes?"

The maid inclined her head and headed over to Daria's spot at a small table. "You have two letters, Miss."

"Two letters?" Daria asked, shocked. Who would ever send her letters? She accepted them with wide eyes and handled them almost as if they were valuable. After a pause, she realized the maid was still awaiting any extra orders. "Thank you, Mara. You may go if you wish." She smiled in apology.

Mara curtsied and gracefully swept out of the room.

Daria's attention turned back to the sweeping print on the letters. She had never seen such beautiful calligraphy. Her eyes became lost in the swirls and loops of her name. She almost jumped out of her skin when she saw the royal seal in the left corner instead of a return address.

Why in the world would one of the royals send her a letter?

Her fingers ran over the texture of the weighty paper and fought down her first wave of inferiority. The calligraphy screamed years of practice. The paper was almost too expensive to even touch, much lest tear.

She reverently put the letter down on her table to inspect the next one. Maybe that one would stop her head from spinning. Instead it was another letter from the castle, but she could see that the handwriting was different from the first.

Daria felt like her eyes would fall out of her head. Finally, she decided to go find a decent letter opener instead of tearing the pretty paper with her clumsy fingers. Maybe when she came back, the dream would be over and the letter would be gone. A girl could only hope.

She found herself in Lord Alfred's study and jumped to find him sitting at his massive wooden desk. He was often gone during the daytime. She wouldn't have dared entered if she knew he was here

"Oh I'm sorry," she apologized as soon as she laid eyes on him. "I did not know you would be in here. I'll just-"

Lord Alfred looked up from his papers and offered only an: "Oh, Daria."

She froze and both of them stewed in the awkward silence that followed. Lord Alfred seemed to find his tongue first.

"Was there something you needed?" He wasn't smiling. But then again, Daria had never seen him do anything more than quirk his lips towards the general direction of the sky.

"I was looking for a letter opener." She spit the words out quickly so she wouldn't stumble over them. She didn't have a problem with strangers; she just didn't know how to deal with an adoptive father that she hardly ever saw. Was she supposed to act familiar towards him? Aloof? Avoid him?

Lord Alfred nodded and opened a drawer. He pulled out a long silver opener with a smooth wooden handle. He held it out to her. "You can use mine."

She walked the distance to his desk quickly. Daria offered a weak smile. "I'll get it back to you as soon as I can."

Her "father" shook his head and returned to his papers. "Keep it as long as you need it. I can always get another one."

That was all he offered. He didn't ask who had sent her letters. He didn't pursue any more conversation with her. Daria didn't know whether to feel chastised or offended. She settled for not putting too much thought into it and swiftly returned to her room.

She half hoped the offending letters were gone. But curiosity burned her brain too much for her to _truly _wish that they had disappeared.

Thankfully, they were still there, sitting on her closed book. They seemed to draw her closer until she couldn't stand it anymore. She picked up the second letter with the different handwriting and opened that one first.

_My dear Lady Daria,_

_ I am writing this letter not only to personally extend you and a guest- if you so choose to bring one- an invitation to the castle, but also for the purpose of aggravating my dear brother. I have not told him as of yet, but once he finds out that we too have been writing, he will most assuredly pop a vein in his unusually large forehead. Or so I am hoping. He'll need some kind of amusement during his time at the Ayorthian court._

_Daria grinned and felt like slapping herself for her stupidity. She knew exactly who had sent her these letters now. _

_ You were a wonderful partner in crime at my brother's going away Ball, and I hope you will continue to be one with me in the future. It is so hard to find someone who is not afraid to use biting sarcasm and insults around a prince. Your lack of tact is delightful._

_Daria's eyes narrowed at the last sentence until the sound of his laughter filled her head. Of course he would be poking fun at her even when it was impossible to judge tone. _

_ On the nineteenth of this month, my mother is holding a garden party for a small group of young nobles in my name. It is simply a matchmaking game but she swears it's so us young people can interact and meet each other. I would love it if you would come. These events are usually extremely dull but with you there, I am sure we can think of some delicious prank to pull on the others. _

_ Your sister is also invited and I have sent her a letter as well. _

_ I expect you to respond as soon as you are able and will drag you to the event myself if you inform me that you are not coming. I didn't stress how dull these events truly are. They can make your brain leak out of your ears if you are not careful._

_ Also, it is against the law to disobey a royal. So come._

_Forever Yours-until Jerrold gets ahold of me-,_

_Prince Jackson_

Daria spent a few good minutes laughing at his letter. When she would finally calm down, she would look at a particular sentence and imagine his voice in her head and begin laughing all over again.

She tucked the letter away in her book and reminded herself to respond to that one later. For now, she was strangely eager to read Jerrold's letter. Especially since she wasn't expecting a letter from him so soon.

She carefully slid the letter opener under the flap and opened the pages slowly.

His handwriting was much more fluid than his brother's and he was much more formal.

_My Dearest Lady Daria of the House of Baden,_

_ I would like to start off this letter with well wishes to you and your family. I hope Lord Alfred's business ventures are prosperous and that Ladies Gianna and Eleanor continue to be in good health. I also hope that all is well with you and that you are enjoying this warm weather we have been having._

_ I know I informed you that I would send this letter later on in the future, but I found myself with some extra time after packing and thought it would be nest to send a letter right now. By the time you read this, I'll be on my week long journey to Ayortha. I have sent the address you can mail me at below, if you do decide to mail me._

_ I wish to make it clear that you are under no obligation to mail me a response. I have come to realize over the years that some people feel compelled to do me favors simply because I am Crown Prince and they wish have my good favor in the future or they feel that they cannot deny royalty. I do not believe you would purposely deceive me; you've been very honest to me in the past. So I must believe that if you do write me it is because you feel duty-bound. _

_ I would wish you write me because you truly want to, not because you feel you have to._

_ On another note, I have not told anyone this yet (so if you tell anyone, I will deny it), but I am actually very eager for my trip. It will be a departure from everything I've ever known and I've always admired other cultures and traditions. Take the Ayorthian culture for example. They would rather sing than talk, and some important events or meetings are even held in song! Although, I do not know how I will fare with that tradition…_

_ I am tone deaf. This might turn out to be an awful trip after all._

_Sincerely,_

_Crown Prince Jerrold of Kyrria_

Daria studied Jerrold's handwriting and fought another wave of inferiority. Her calligraphy looked like chicken scratch compared to his. How could she honestly write him a letter with all of her misspellings and grammar mistakes when his letters were impeccable? She sighed and placed the letter on top of the other one.

She wasn't suited for any of this.

It was when she was writing her daily letter to Emma did she realize what she should do. First, going to Mistress Florence for aid was not a bad idea. It was not like she was going to say anything _private _to the prince. Second, she could write one letter, then write a second and clean up all the mistakes and avoid those nasty ink-blotches she was prone to get.

Of course, Mistress Florence was beside herself with happiness when she realized two princes were writing to Daria. Daria could not really tell why, but she suspected it had something to do with "courtship" or "babies" and she was not comfortable with either choice. The older women always seemed to be planning out Daria's life.

"I just need help with grammar. And with spelling. I understand that you will not write it for me I just need…" Daria trailed off hesitantly. If her Mistress was going to smile like that the whole time, Daria would just go to Mister Jacobs. She should have done that in the first place.

"Maybe this was too much to ask." Daria concluded.

"No!" Florence captured Daria's arm. "I will be glad to help."

* * *

After a week, Daria finally had two letters. She did not care too much about Jackson's letter and had not shown Mistress Florence in case the older woman fainted at his bluntness. So she wrote that letter on her own and felt very proud of it.

**Dear Prince Jackson of Kyrria,**

** I regret to inform you that I cannot attend your garden party due to your awful attitude. Your insults on my tact and your mean promises were almost too much to bear. I almost fainted at the thought of being dragged anywhere. **I am a Lady**. **

** I also do not like it when you say that I was your partner in crime. I am always on my best behavior. What do "delicious prank" even mean? **

** "So come" is also not a command. It is something a two-year-old would say when he has no arguments left. I expected more from you. **

**Don't ever write me again,**

**Respectable Lady Daria of the House of Baden **

**P.S. My mother would never let me refuse a royal invitation. Of course I am coming. Also, I have never noticed your brothers "unusually large forehead." I shall have to pay attention to this in the far future. If he does pop a vein, it is all your fault. Do not burn this letter or else I will have no proof of my innocence. Until the 19****th****.**

Daria wrote a first draft of her letter to Jerrold, had Mistress Florence approve it, then wrote her final letter with a few additions.

**Dear Crown Prince of Kyrria,**

** I was very honored that you would send me a letter in the middle of all your travel preparations. My family and I are doing very well, thank you. My favorite season is actually fall, but this summer has been cool enough for me to enjoy it. **

** Your promises that I am not obligated to write to you are very nice and I promise in turn that I do not feel pressure. Thank you. The only reservation I have is that I have terrible grammar and handwriting. I hope you can forgive me for this and that you can read what I am actually writing.**

** They sing in meetings? You are tone deaf? Oh dear. Do they sing in counsels of war? **

**I actually am not very well informed about the Ayorthian culture. So I would not know if they sang in counsels of war or not. Also, I'm sure they would not make you sing if you did not want to or are not used to singing. Or you can just sing very, very quietly. **

** I should stop writing before I make a fool of myself. I hope you had a very good trip and you are in good health after all that traveling. I also hope your trip is not in any way awful. That would be a terrible way to spend a year. **

**Sincerely,**

**Lady Daria of the House of Baden**

* * *

Anonymous reviews**:**

childoffaith: Thank you so much for the review! I hope I didn't make you all wait too long and still fall into that bracket of "soon!" :)

the beauty of sarcasm: Aww haha, I don't know where to start! Thank you so much for the lovely review and compliments. Yeah, I'm still trying to balance her trying out friendships/flirting between the fact that's she pretty much has lived her whole life being pretty tough and B.A. I'll try to tweak that in the future and I hope the up-tightness has toned down a bit in this chapter. If you see anything else, feel free to point it out! **  
**


	23. Chapter 22

**Sorry. I know in my review replies I said that the new chapter would be out a few weeks back. But then we had to travel out of the state because of some scary family stuff (everything is okay now). So it was postponed. If the update schedule is really bothering you, I deeply apologize and understand if you wish to stop reading. I'd rather you read it and be happy instead of not enjoying it because the schedule is flaky.

Much, much thanks goes out to _tj2317_, _Ilovethehgbooks_, "_nice",_ _MissSilvertounge_, _NotsoAnonymous_, _echotheinferno_, _totorosfriend121_, _Ella Granger_, _highfivejellyfish_, _SH, xXJustSomeRandomKidXx_, _Candy8496_, and _The Silver Countess_. You guys are awesome and I really appreciate the reviews. It shows people are reading this and care enough to review, so thanks. 3

Plot belongs to Lemonlimesweetness as well as myself. Story and world belongs to the talented GCL.**

oOo

"Most of the farmers believe they're going to lose their crops because of the heat wave."Pearl said sadly as she braided Daria's hair.

Daria licked her parched lips and sighed. Pearl was Daria's link to the common people. Their people. Most of the time, Daria liked to know what was happening in the kingdom. She heard all of the gossip from the palace; who was marrying whom, which duchess wore a hideous dress, the usual. But Daria had a hard time connecting with those things. When the disparity was too great, or when she did not understand why a seemingly innocent action could offend half the court, she turned to something she did understand.

The affairs of the common man.

She understood why Emmet the baker could struggle if the wheat crops died. She understood that without the water from the river Lucarno, most of the people on the streets would faint from heatstroke. And she especially understood that when temperatures skyrocketed, most people forwent traveling and the people who owned inns suffered.

Daria sighed. "Have the court magicians had any luck pinpointing why this heat has descended upon Kyrria?"

"No, M'lady." In the mirror, Daria could see Pearl's lips quirk in an ironic smile. "It might just be natural after all."

There was no way this heat was natural. Daria felt like she would melt off the stool she was perched on. Never in her life had she experienced such heat. With the humidity of the river, Daria felt like a damp, steamy blanket was being pressed to her face.

Everyone in the kingdom had been affected by this unexpected heat. Even perky Pearl was cranky because the temperatures prevented her from sleeping at night. Farmers were scrambling for water to keep their crops and animals hydrated. Shipments from certain parts of the country had been cut off because the journey was just too long. Preserves for the winter were spoiling in their warmer than average cellars.

It was driving Daria mad. When she had been small, she and her siblings always had a cure to the heat. They would run into a small pond in the woods and would spend all day in its cool waters. When Daria had to help with the inn, she would simply do the dishes and secretly splash around in the cold water.

It was clear that if Daria tried to do either, Lady Gianna would scold her for sneaking away from the manor, and Mandy would… Well Daria preferred not to think about Mandy too much. So instead, Daria pinned her hair to the top of her head and would lay on the cold wood floor in the thinnest shift she owned.

It was ridiculous but it worked.

But the day of the party had arrived and even though it was too hot to even _breathe_, Daria managed to wade through the humidity to prepare. Her make-up was lightly applied so it would not run and the dress was elegant but made solely of lightweight silks.

Now, as Pearl finished her hair, Daria did not feel like a noble. She felt like a sweaty, tired and grumpy peasant. How could she go out and pretend she was like the other Lords and Ladies?

oOo

The carriage ride was tense, sweaty and severely uncomfortable. Even Lady Gianna was too miserable to speak. Daria could feel the sweat creeping down her spine and it was driving her insane. The curtains were pinned open in desperation. If it was not for the few gusts of fresh air that rushed in, she was sure she would pass out. This brought back memories of the last time she was stuck in the heat without water and it made her headache worse.

Once, Eleanor and Daria had accidentally exchanged a glance, but they had both diverted their eyes quickly. They were not in the mood to be cordial. The strain was like holding a brittle glass cup. One of them would exert too much pressure on the rim; they would be displeased with the person across from them, and _snap_. The shards would fly everywhere.

Daria stuck her face as close to the window as possible. Pleading. She could not think straight anymore. She could not stand…

And then they were wheeling up to and around the castle. The picnic grounds were behind the enormous structure and the three women sighed in relief when they passed under its shadow.

Lady Gianna was helped out first, followed by Eleanor, followed by a grateful Daria. She tried to tumble out as gracefully as possible. Thankfully, she landed steadily on both feet and gasped the significantly cooler air. The breeze hit the damp spots on her dress and her tense shoulders slumped in relief.

Then the scene before her registered in her mind and she tensed for an entirely different reason. The size of the castle was _staggering_. Of course, she had seen it before. She had been awed by its size many times. Yet, something happened when she saw an object at a different angle. More characteristics were revealed to her.

Daria gaped at the castle, her skirts still gathered in her hands. Her eyes furiously recorded everything from the millions of limestone bricks to the dozens of windows lining the wall in a uniform fashion. How anyone could have built something this grand, much less live in it was beyond her.

She heard giggles from far off and immediately let go of her skirts. Lady Gianna and Eleanor were already sweeping away, not noticing their missing member. Daria fought down embarrassment.

Ashamed, she ran over the thoughts that had been running through her mind as she had been gawking. She felt so inadequate, so unprepared for court life. She was a simple _peasant_ and here she was gallivanting around in a dress that cost a little more than the inn gained in revenue every week.

Daria had tried to convince herself over and over that these thoughts were not prudent any more but it was still difficult to try and convince herself that she deserved all this finery.

No one, not even Mistress Florence could do that.

She heard more giggling and snippets of conversation and realized that she was very close to the tents by now. Daria took a deep breath and steeled herself for what was to come.

The tents were nothing more than thin silver poles holding up a silk covering. These coverings provided shade and still allowed the breeze to flow around the crowd. Tables upon tables were lined up under the tents. The castle had provided cold sandwiches and dewy glasses that held some kind of golden liquid. There were also bowls of flavored ices and Daria's eyes widened in surprise. How did the castle keep the ice from melting?

Comfortable looking chairs and small end tables were also placed under the tents, and people reclined under these while holding a conversation and clutching their refreshments. Jackson had been right about the size; there couldn't have been more than forty people, including the adults.

She quickened her pace slightly and soon was able to rejoin her "family." They were approaching the receiving line where the Queen and Prince Jackson were calmly standing in the brunt of the sun. Not one of their hairs was out of place from their sweat and they actually looked like the heat did not affect them. Daria wished she could be so lucky.

Lady Gianna greeted the Queen first-as per protocol. They exchanged double wide smiles and so it went until it was Daria's turn. The Queen nodded at Daria's curtsey in approval.

"I am so glad you could come, Lady Daria." The twinkle in the Queen's eye seemed to be a little too bright.

"I am very honored to be here, your Majesty."

The Queen nodded and looked towards the next incoming persons.

"There you are," Jackson greeted with a smile that looked less gracious and more excited. He lightly grasped Daria's hand and held it in place as Daria curtsied and he bowed. "I was beginning to think you were going to disobey a prince."

"Disobey a prince?" Daria's eyes narrowed. "Why I'd never do such an awful thing!"

The prince grinned. "Yes you would. Now go get something to drink and I'll be right over as soon as I've fulfilled my duties here, alright?"

Daria nodded and resisted rolling her eyes. She sighed in relief as soon as she was in the shade and quickly picked up one of the flavored ices. She had heard of these but had never tasted it before. The ice had somehow been crushed and was served in a glass bowl with a dainty silver spoon sticking out.

The vanilla flavor exploded in her mouth and Daria felt the relief at once. It seemed to take the edge off of the heat.

Magic, Daria concluded. It must be magic. Nothing could taste so delicious and be so soothing at the same time. She made her way to one of the wicker chairs and lowered herself into one. The grass beneath her feet was so plush she would have loved to kick her shoes off and dig her toes in. The sensation could be as soothing as the ices. But she remembered her place and settled for sitting in the shade instead.

The three other chairs under the makeshift gazebo were empty. Daria could have easily joined her family, she supposed, but they had joined two other people and had unconsciously left Daria out. It stung a bit, but she supposed it was all for the best. She was already looking forward to whatever antics Jackson would get up to and Lady Gianna might not approve.

Someone lowered themselves into the chair next to Daria, and she looked over, ready to greet the prince. Except it was not the prince. It was a man, a little older than Daria, with a flute of the golden liquid perched on the tips of his fingers.

He looked pompous. It was something about the way he sat, the way his jaw jutted out in a superior fashion. His clothes were free of wrinkles, and like the royal family, he looked like the heat did not affect him.

_Am I the only one dying?_ Daria mused bitterly. She was sure her hair had already frizzed and she resisted the urge to smooth out her dress.

The stranger's blonde hair was immaculate. He carefully sipped at his drink and his blue eyes slid over to Daria. A smile slowly grew on his lips.

"Oh hello, I did not see you there." He greeted.

"I'm sure." Oh no, she had not even been here five minutes and she was already reverting to sarcasm. What would Mistress Florence say? If only she had joined her family, she would have been able to control her tongue.

The man, however, took it in stride. He simply grinned and turned to face Daria. "My name is Sir John. And you are?"

His eyes met hers and Daria took a second to reply. His eyes were familiar, and Daria prided herself in always being able to remember a face. Oh where did she see him before?

"My name is Daria." After a few more seconds, she decided it was rude to stare. Maybe she hadn't seen him before. But that did not mean _he_ did not stop. He was openly leering at her and it chilled her more than the ices did.

"Well Lady Daria, I feel like we should get to know each other." He grinned. "I am visiting and hardly know anyone here. It would be nice to make a…" his gaze raked her form, "a friend?"

Daria shifted so her body was not facing him. How could one man say only a few words and already be so revolting?

"I believe you're out of luck, _Sir_ John." She sniffed, her way of secretly dismissing him. "I do not make friends very easily. I'm very picky." She looked out across the lush picnic grounds and locked her gaze on trees, other nobles, anything to make her seem occupied.

Instead of taking the hint, he laughed. "Oh well then, you're in luck my Lady. For I know I would pass all your tests and more!"

Daria's jaw fell open and she whirled to stare at him. He was leaning towards her with a smirk on his face, an elbow on the armrest on his chair. There was a moment where neither person said anything, and he used it to take another sip.

"Oh there you are Lady Daria!"

Daria and John turned to the voice. Prince Jackson approached them, his arms spread wide and his lips arranged in a smile.

"I have been looking all over for you," he said once he was closer. He was standing right in front of her now. "Were you hiding from me?"

Daria's eyes quickly flickered towards John just to see what he made of this. He was clutching the flute of his glass, almost enveloping the whole thing with his large hand. His jaw was now set and the smirk had disappeared off his face.

Daria smiled at John's reaction and calmly responded to the Prince's taunts. "Not at all, your Highness. I was simply trying to enjoy the tranquility that comes from _solitude_."

"Well do you mind if I cut in? I would love to introduce you to some of my friends."

"Not at all." She looked at John and shrugged. "Another time perhaps?" Then she gratefully took Jackson's proffered arm and ambled away happily.

oOo

"So, who was that?" Jackson asked as soon as they were out of earshot. "Another person my brother has to compete with?"

Daria snorted, because she could do wonderful things like that in Jackson's presence. "Hardly. I was about to slap him."

The prince laughed. "Oh I wish you would have. He is one of the most arrogant men I have ever met in my life."

"Even more arrogant than you?"

He grinned. "Even more arrogant than me. Now, stick with me and we can have some real fun, hmm?"

Daria shook her head in disbelief. "All you have been doing today is ordering me around! I'm not going to gallivant around with you if you keep this up." She said sternly.

His grip tightened and his grimaced comically. "It's my job to order people around."

_Jerrold doesn't order me around_. The thought was unbidden and surprising. Daria hardly thought of Jerrold unless she had a letter from him. Why did she think of him now and why was she comparing him to others? Maybe it was because she was with his brother.

"Oh Prince Jackson!" Someone exclaimed and ran over.

Both Jackson and Daria startled. As one, they turned to look at the speaker. The girl running up to them seemed to be around Daria's age with platinum blond hair and the thinnest set of lips Daria had ever laid eyes on. The girl was thin but it almost made her seem bony instead of attractive.

Her eyes were eager and she closed in on the prince quickly.

"It is so good to see you!" She exclaimed, and her frail chest heaved dramatically.

Daria and Jackson exchanged a _look_ before he sighed. His eyes shuttered, which seemed to happen whenever he was speaking to someone he particularly did not like.

"Lady Daria, may I introduce you to Lady Olga. A…" his grip briefly spasmed, "… a friend of the royal family. Lady Olga, this is Lady Daria."

Olga frowned when she looked at Daria. But then the thin girl recovered, and she advanced, practically pressing into Jackson. Daria was appalled and amused at Olga's forwardness. Jackson just looked appalled.

"Oh, Prince Jackson, I have missed spending time with you quite terribly. You have not returned any of my letters."

Daria immediately knew that Olga had to be one of the girls Jackson led on. His reputation and the genuinely confused look on her face seemed to attest to that. It was not like she was particularly unattractive. She would probably be very beautiful if she loosed her corset-both figuratively and literally-and stopped blinking so much. Daria could not even tell the color of the girl's eyes.

"You've sent me letters?" Jackson pretended to be innocent.

"Oh yes! And they've been sent on my special perfumed stationary. I-" Well the girl had a set of lungs on her.

As she rambled on, Jackson leaned over. "Help me." He hissed.

"I don't know how."

oOo

Mr. Irons had a letter waiting for Daria when she got home. He was very discreet about it, waiting until Daria was alone in the foyer to present it. She was confused about his approach but tucked the letter in her dress nonetheless.

The party had been enjoyable enough that Daria was able to ignore the heat. Jackson had introduced Daria to practically everyone at the party. She knew a few of them, had tea with others. It was intimidating meeting new people who believed that they were superior just because of their birthrights.

Daria still had calluses on her hands.

She enjoyed Jackson's snarky humor. She did not enjoy how heavily he relied on putting people down to be funny.

It was interesting, her new dynamic with the second prince. If she was not so exhausted, she would have ruminated on it more. Instead she headed straight for a bath to wipe off the grime that comes from being outside all day. The water had been cooler than usual by request and it was the perfect ending to the day.

Dressed in a fresh nightgown, the young woman padded to her bed and stopped. The letter had been placed on the small table next to her window. She liked reading there because of the light. The candlelight would have been sufficient to read it by but…

Daria's resolve wavered. Should she read it? Or should she wait until the morning? Her borrowed letter opener lay right beside the missive. Tempting her.

Then her eyes closed of their own accord and her body made the decision for her. It could wait until morning.

oOo

**I was watching a program we had a while back about the Queen's Diamond Jubilee and got the inspiration for the setting from a piece about the picnics the royals threw at Buckingham Palace. So if you want, you can feel free to imagine that with maybe a little more medieval flair. (And yes, the American media had hours of coverage on the Jubilee. As much as we like to posture and huff and pretend the way our republic is set up is best -royalty still fascinates us. :) )

Sorry about the small cliffe and I promise all will be explained about _Lady_ Olga in due time (I forgot how she is described in the books so I kinda borrowed from the movie)! ;)

Oh and I'm experimenting with page breaks, because my word processor hates regular page breaks and ruins my formatting. Is the *oOo* too jarring? If so I can change it.

Anonymous reviews:

SH: Hey thank you so much for the review. It really means a lot that you think it's well written and it definitely helps with my writer's confidence haha. Yes, I am very determined to finish this story. Oh and thanks for the insight about reviews. I'm trying not to get caught up in numbers since the reviews I get are generally very good and motivational. Thanks very much!

NotsoAnonymous: Oh man I am _so _intrigued about what you were going to say. I can't even read your review too much 'cause the curiosity kills me! Haha thank you for trying to persist and thanks very much for the review(s)!

Nice: Thank you and thank you for the review! **


	24. Chapter 23

*Here's another update because I did not like the idea of making you guys wait with a cliffe and such a Daria-Jackson central chapter. Sorry it's so short though.

Mucho gracias goes to xXJustSomeRandomKidXx for reviewing so quickly!

Disclaimer: Plot belongs to Lemonlimesweetness and I. Characters and world of course belongs to GCL.

Enjoy!*

oOo

Daria opened the letter after a quick breakfast with her "family." Sitting down at her customary table, she swiftly opened the envelope. She admired Jerrold's crisp handwriting and smiled. Apparently he had not found her handwriting and grammar so terrible after all.

_My Dearest Lady Daria of the House of Baden,_

_I must admit I was very delighted to get your letter. The people in the castle conduct themselves very curiously over here. Most of the people in the palace are very silent no matter how much I try to talk to them. Then they have their Sings, which can be compared to our balls where everyone performs instead of dances, and suddenly everyone is alive. It is a very strange lifestyle and it is nice to be reminded of home, or at least have someone to write to. Crown Prince Oscaro is very nice and does enjoy talking so it is not very silent, at least. _

_Of course, I can read your handwriting. Your writing is not terrible, why do you disparage it so? Your letter actually made me laugh. I tried singing very quietly at one of the Sings but afterwards Prince Oscaro confronted me, asking if their songs offended me. I had no choice to admit my shortcoming and Oscaro thought it was hilarious that I had not just said so in the first place. Since then, I have been spared from singing again, although some of the Court finds it amusing that I cannot hold a note to save my life. _

_I actually asked if they sing in councils of war, because your question made me very curious. They do not sing, instead I have heard they have very strict traditions and sayings they must use before they start discussing the state of affairs. They would not tell me everything-state secrets must not be shared, even in peace time. But when they open the council, they begin by chanting. It was a very fascinating answer to a very fascinating question, so thank you._

_Speaking of the weather, I have heard that the heat has suddenly spiked to almost dangerous levels. How are you fairing, since you stated that you enjoyed cool weather? In fact, and forgive me if I am assuming too much, do you know how the townspeople are faring? I heard that some farmers might lose their crops. That is very unfortunate and I know my father is planning to help them with the income that they will lose if that happens. But surely, they cannot be the only ones affected, can they? Again, forgive me if I am assuming too much by asking you about the common people. I know the nobles will survive; they can always buy charms to protect their cellars and ward off the heat. _

_I will await your reply._

_Sincerely,_

_Crown Prince Jerrold of Kyrria_

oOo

Daria felt the letter start to slip out of her fingers. She was dumbfounded. Just the previous day she had been fighting the great discord between her past life and her current one. Court Daria was fighting Peasant Daria and neither could come to terms with each other. Those nobles at the party had not even brought up the plight of the peasants in their polite conversation about the heat. They had not even cared. Court Daria was not supposed to care.

Peasant Daria wanted to lash out at their indifference by feeding Jackson's bitterness and mean jokes. It felt good to admit on some level that the nobles were just normal people with money. They were not so intimidating then.

Her eyes flickered down to the letter. Now the _Crown Prince_ was the one who wrote Daria about the common people. He seemed to be able to bypass the discord. It astonished her. What happened to the prince who spilled wine on dirty beggars? How could he live in the lap of luxury and _still _be brought to care about those underneath him?

She was beginning to understand more about him. She did not doubt his sincerity. If there was one thing she could say about Jerrold was that he was honest. Even his motives behind the wine incident had been transparent.

Daria clutched the paper in her hands as she looked out her window to the gardens below. Was it time to form a new opinion on the prince?

oOo

"You're doing very well with your maths, Lady Daria." Her tutor informed her.

"Thank you." Daria smiled. She was used to working with numbers, having helped her mother handle the inn's income.

"And I should commend you on your history. Your paper on the last Great War contained some very perceptive observations."

Daria's smile turned a little more sheepish. "I like history. It shows us how we're all connected, gnomes, elves, humans… Noble and peasants alike." She looked up at her tutor.

He was standing next to her desk in the library, and because of his height, he towered over her. He was lanky with shoulder length blonde hair and looked to be in his mid-thirties. Pearl thought he was dreamy. Daria thought he was nice.

A thin hand rested on one of the historical book Daria had been studying. "But not everyone is brought together by tragedy. There have been plenty of times where a group realizes that they are compatible to sympathetic with another in times of peace and prosperity."

For some odd reason his words would not leave Daria's mind.

oOo

It took the young woman almost a week to gather up the courage to look a Prince Jerrold's letter. It was not that he intimidated her or anything. It was just that she could no longer accept her previous perception of him. No longer was he the spoiled prince that she always felt obligated to talk to. Instead, he was honest, open and almost… funny. Jackson was sarcastic and dry. Jerrold instead relied on being borderline self-depreciating.

And most of all, she… she wanted to talk to him. It was strange for her, but she really wanted to see if Jerrold was really that nice. Or was he faking it? In the end, she blamed her curiosity, picked up her supplies and went off to search for Mistress Florence.

oOo

**Dear Crown Prince Jerrold of Kyrria,**

**To start off, thank you for asking that question for me. I honestly meant it as a joke. I did not expect you to take it so seriously. I hope I did not inconvenience you. But the answer was fascinating, so thank you very much. I wish I could hear the Ayorthians sing. I imagine their songs sound very beautiful.**

**I am also very glad you were not put off by my writing. I am very harsh to myself in this case and nothing you say will convince me otherwise. (That, by the way was also one of my terrible attempts at humor. You do not have to convince me of anything.)**

**Also, I have to address you question with another word of thanks. I did not expect you to ask about the common people and I appreciate that you care about your future subjects. If the heat had only lasted a few days, I'm sure everyone would be fine. But it has lasted weeks now. Vendors cannot lay their produce out in the sun for too long or else it rots and goes bad by the next day. The food the people are storing for winter in their cellars are rotting, which is the most troublesome thing. I honestly had no idea these charms existed, which is sad because I think they would really help. Innkeepers are suffering because no one wants to travel in the sun and suffer heatstroke. **

Daria hesitated and wondered if she should add the next part that had been weighing on her mind. She wrote it anyway in the revised letter because she could never deny the fact that she had been homeless once.

**Personally, I am worried about the people on the streets. I think they might suffer heatstroke. Of course they can always go to the public wells or pumps for water but it seems like the only way to beat the heat is to go swimming. They would go swimming in the river Lucarno but I have recently learned that guards patrol the river to prevent that kind of thing. **

**I wish I could end this letter on a lighter note, but I really dislike the heat and it is really making me miserable. I think I am going into the cellar to huddle next to a sack of potatoes. Then I'll be able to get out of heat **and** manners training. It's a win-win situation.**

**Sincerely,**

**Lady Daria of the House of Baden**

oOo

"So what is the news Pearl?"

"Well, it's so strange; people have been saying that they haven't seen as many guards by the Lucarno… Oh and the magick shops have been selling these little charms at a discounted price because of the heat! They're really great and they're said to keep a room cold-like our cellar! And… And… M'Lady? Are you okay? You look a little pale."

oOo

*More Jerrold/Daria interactions to come!*


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